Miss Moriarty
by uniquename200's NEW ACCOUNT
Summary: He's done it. Sherlock has chosen Irene. Molly tries to move on but knows she still loves him. When her family offers control of the criminal empire her older brother left behind, she reluctantly accepts, knowing that it'll help her get away from him. She leaves St. Bart's but as the empire grows, Molly soon starts to wonder who's more important: your family or the one you love?
1. Prologue: Sherlock's Choice

Hello, everyone! The concept of Molly Moriarty has mentally been accepted in my brain (thanks to tumblr) and voila! This is what happened. I hope you enjoy it and I know that this is super short right now but bear with me. This is the prologue.

The main pairing is Sherlock and Molly, with some Sherlock and Irene. I might stick in random pairings later like John and Mary or Mycroft and Anthea or whatever.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Sherlock. Moffat and Gatiss do. This was written to curb my insanity in waiting for season 3!

* * *

He's done it.

Sherlock has chosen Irene.

Everything happened so suddenly. Even Molly didn't see it coming. She never expected that Irene would come back into their lives. However, she appeared on an August morning without warning and with Sherlock.

**_(Flashback: August 25, 2011)_**

_Molly walked around the empty laboratory, whistling cheerfully as she grabbed a beaker full of nitrogen. Today marked another year that had gone by without any news from her family. Save for Jim, of course. He had only come to masquerade as Jim from IT because he had told her that he wanted to meet Sherlock Holmes. However, he told Molly to pretend that they were dating so that it wouldn't freak Sherlock out, knowing that a complete stranger came all this way to see him. She had agreed only because Jim was the most bearable out of the family (save for her mother) and she was always willing to help him. However, things turned sour once she found out his true intentions and she had chosen to help Sherlock instead of him because she knew that it was the right thing to do._

_The door opened and she heard someone step in. "Molly, I need to see the body again." A voice said. She knew that this was Sherlock and turned around to look._

_And then she saw her._

_A woman with dark hair and sultry makeup stood next to Sherlock. Her hair was in a bun and she had blue eyes that inspected her carefully. Molly didn't know why, but she looked awfully familiar._

_"Oh, who's this?" She asked._

_"Molly, this is Irene Adler. You remember her, don't you?" Sherlock said distractedly._

_"Hello. You must be Molly. Sherlock has told me a great deal about you." Irene said, shaking her hand._

_"What has he said about me? Nothing too horrid, I hope." Molly replied._

_"He's been fairly kind in his comments." She said with a sly smile. Molly knew that there was something else going on here and wondered what Sherlock had said about her._

_"By the way, she's my new girlfriend. She'll be staying with me in Baker Street, now that John's gone off with that wife of his..." Sherlock called from his position at the microscope. Molly nearly dropped the nitrogen in shock at the sudden news._

_"Your...girlfriend?" She echoed blankly. The news slowly began to sink in and her heart sank. He had chosen someone else. A dominatrix, no less! Molly had known him for years and felt a bit pissed at knowing that she had been thrown aside for a total stranger. She felt a tear well up in her eye and stared down into the microscope._

_"Yes." He said. Molly swallowed back her tears and looked up at him with a smile. There was no way she could cry in front of them. Her father always said that showing weakness was a major disadvantage. Molly didn't usually listen to his advice but knew that this was right. She couldn't afford to let Sherlock see her hurting over him and Molly was certainly not going to give Irene the satisfaction of seeing her pain._

_"That's...wonderful, Sherlock. I'm very happy to hear that." She said with a strained smile._

_Well, at least she tried to look ok._

_"Thank you, Molly. Will you hand me that scalpel, please?" Sherlock replied. Molly went silent and she gave him the silver knife. Did he really just tell Molly about his new girlfriend and expected her to dismiss it like that? He knew full well that she was in love with him. What kind of a sick bastard was he? Molly tried to erase her thoughts about his new relationship and told herself that she was being irrational._

_"-olly? Did you hear anything I said?" A voice said, snapping her out of her thoughts. She looked up and saw Sherlock standing above her._

_"Huh? Oh, sorry. I was...spacing out. What did you say?" Molly asked, giving him an apologetic smile. He raised an eyebrow and repeated his information. She went on with her work, with thoughts about him running through her head. There was an ache in her chest that refused to go away and her heart felt like it had split right down the middle. When they left the lab, Molly broke down in tears._

_Sherlock had broken her heart._

**_(Flashback END)_**

Molly was able to endure two months of false smiles and she maintained happy demeanor before finally realizing that she was never going to able to do this. She had gone through a sort of breakdown and stayed home for three days, pretty much drowning in sorrow. Molly loved him too much to let this go and knew that he was blind in choosing Irene.

But what could she do about it?

Her answer would come a few weeks later, and she would be faced with an offer that would change her life forever. The game would begin again and this time, it would take her life by full force. It would be even more dangerous than the first because it was a game between her and him.

Molly would be pitted against the greatest detective in the world, Sherlock Holmes.

Now, who would be the victor?

* * *

Well, that's it for now! Leave a review if you want. I like those :)

-uniquename200


	2. Chapter 1: The Start Of A Storm

Hi, guys! Thanks for all of your lovely reviews! I saw all of them and they made me as happy as Sherlock gets whenever he gets a new case. (In Lehman's terms, I was very pleased :D) I'm glad you guys like the premise of evil-Molly and I'm also glad that you didn't think that it was way weird. I present to you the first chapter of _Miss Moriarty_!

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Sherlock. Moffat and Gatiss do. If I did, it wouldn't be as clever or amazing as it is. Isn't that a good thing?

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_**(September 24, 2011- 6:47 PM)**_

Molly walked around the laboratory, stowing various tools in the cabinet. It was a trying day and she felt drained and irritated. Sherlock had come in, asking her to do ridiculous things for his case. Honestly, she had no idea what went on in his mind but knew that it would make sense somehow.

He was still here, in fact, and was inspecting a pair of shoes in the x-ray machine. John was arguing with him over something and they were deep in "case talk". She picked up her bag and made her way to the door.

"I'm heading out for the night. Don't forget to lock up when you're done." Molly said.

"No problem. Thanks again, Moll-" John began. A shrill ring interrupted him and Molly froze. Staying Alive by the Beegees was a ringtone reserved for anyone in her family. What could they want? Sherlock looked up and he raised an eyebrow at her ringtone choice. Molly hastily picked it up from the table and answered it.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Hello, Molly. Ce mai faci?" A male voice said. Her expression darkened and displeasure radiated off of her in waves. It was her cousin, Sebastian. He had joined the British army as a sniper to gather information about the government for the family and left when he had gotten what he needed. Sebastian was close with her brother and fairly close to her but Molly still thought he was a bit of an asshole. She fiddled with a pencil and snapped it in half in her annoyance. This broke her streak! John and Sherlock could sense that she was upset and both of them wondered who was calling.

_**(A/N: Translation is in italics!)**_

"Da, salut tine. Vorbești în limba română, așa că voi merge mai departe și să își asume ceva sa întâmplat. Ce este asta?" She snapped. John looked at her oddly and she could tell that he was trying to figure out what language she was speaking. _Yes, hello to you too. (You're talking in Romanian, so I'll go ahead and assume something's happened. What is it?)_

"Nu fi atât de nepoliticos cu mine, Molly. Am o propunere pentru tine." He said. (_Don't be so rude to me, Molly. I have a proposal for you.)_

"Trebuie să-l auzi?" Molly said. (_Do I have to hear it?)_

"Mi-e teamă că e de cea mai mare importanță. Este vorba despre tatăl tău." He said. (_I'm afraid it's of utmost importance. It's about your father.)_

"Ce-i cu el? El a fost mort de un an de acum de ce mă suni. Pentru care contează? Mamă-ar putea să mă sune ea." She scoffed. (_What about him? He's been dead for four years now. Why are you calling me, for that matter? Mum could just phone me herself.)_

"Ea mi-a spus să vă sun pentru că a crezut că v-ar asculta la mine." Sebastian replied. (_She told me to call you because she thought you would listen to me.)_

"Și ce este?" Molly said. (_And what is it?)_

"L-au găsit voința sa. Are instrucțiuni specifice pe care le privesc." He said. (_They've found his will. It has specific instructions that concern you.)_

"El a lăsat un testament? Ei bine, ce-a spus?" Molly said, sounding mildly interested. (_He left a will? Well, what did he say?)_

"Aș vrea să vorbim despre asta la cină. Ce zici de Café de Lhuiller la 7:30? Do rochie corespunzător, apropo." He said. (_I'd like to talk about it over dinner. How about the Café de Lhuiller at 7:30? Do dress appropriately, by the way.)_

"Voi merge la Café de Lhuiller poate 7:40. Sunt pe drum un loc de muncă, așa că ar putea fi un pic cam tarziu. Ne vedem acolo." She replied. (_I'll head to the Cafe de Lhuiller at maybe 7:40. I'm on my way out of work, so I might be a bit late. I'll see you there.)_

Molly hung up and shoved the phone in her bag. She let out a sigh and got ready to leave. Molly looked up and let out a shriek when she saw Sherlock looming above her.

"Molly, who was that?" He asked.

"No one." She said firmly. John walked over to them and she tried to find a way to get past then and out of the lab.

"What language was that, Molly?" John said.

"Romanian." She said through tight lips, walking towards the door. He followed after her and grabbed her by the shoulder.

"You never told me you could speak Romanian." Sherlock said.

"It's not my obligation to tell you everything about myself, is it?" Molly said. It was a snide comment that came out like a joke and she was thankful to see that he hadn't taken offense to it.

Well, he might have.

Either way, she didn't notice, nor did she care. Molly wasn't afraid to bust out a rude comment or two anymore. He did it to her all the time, so it was karma at work.

She said goodbye to both of them before heading home to change clothes. Molly put on a snug-fitting navy blue dress and put some pink lipstick on. She used her hairdryer to style her hair in a blowout and put on a pair of black pumps. This was the first time in a while that she looked classy and expensive. It was reminiscent of the Molly she used to be before. She put her phone in a clutch bag and got in a cab bound for the Café de Lhuiller to meet Sebastian.

Molly stepped out of the cab and caught several glances, particularly from a man heading into the restaurant. She had no idea that Sherlock was following her tonight, under the disguise of a man going out for dinner. Molly had unknowingly piqued his interest and he had come here to see what she was doing.

Molly headed over to the podium and gave them Sebastian's name. She was brought to a table by the window and she saw a brown haired man sitting at the table. He turned around and gave her a smile.

"Molly, it's good to see you. It's been far long." Sebastian said. She gave him a hug and returned his smile.

"It has been quite a long time. I haven't seen you in...eleven years now. What have you been up to now?" Molly said, taking a seat. The waiter handed them menus and Sebastian sent him away quickly. Neither were aware that the man sitting near Sebastian was actually Sherlock and he wanted to know who Molly was talking to. Sherlock could hear some of what they were talking about, but not everything since it was a bit loud in the restaurant.

"I've been helping around with the family. Your mum's temporarily in charge of everything." He said.

"I see." Molly replied. They took their orders and chatted politely before Molly mustered up the courage to ask him what happened.

"So...what did they find?" She said.

"Ah, yes. I have a copy, so you should read it for yourself." He said, handing her a piece of paper.

* * *

**LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT**

_**The Last Will & Testament of Charles Thomas Moriarty**_

I, _Charles Moriarty_ of_ 7437 Blackwood Street in Cambridge, England_, do declare that this is my last will and testament.

I hereby revoke all prior wills.

I am married to _Maria Moriarty_ and all references in this Will to my spouse refer to _Maria_.

I have two living children, _James Moriarty_ and _Molly Moriarty_. All references in this Will to my children will have their names specified to their respective portions.

**Article 1:**

I leave all my houses and properties to my wonderful and loving wife, _Maria_.

**Article 2:**

I leave my "empire" to the hands of my son, _James_. If he should die, the power will go to my daughter, _Molly_, and only her. This responsibility cannot be passed to someone else. If she tries to refuse and runs from her responsibility, I want her killed. I have left individual letters attached to this Will, so distribute them as such.

**Article 3:**

_**Everyone**_ in the Moriarty family has permission to kill _Molly_ if she does not follow my orders.

* * *

Molly stared at the letter in shock. She had no idea what to say and her mind went totally blank. Take over the business? Was he insane? She felt sick to her stomach and was unable to speak.

"Sebby, are you sure this is really for me?" Molly finally choked out.

"Yes. There's a letter as well." He said, handing her an envelope. Molly tore it open and stared at its contents.

* * *

_My dearest Molly,_

_I hate to sound cliché, but by the time you have read this I will be dead and you have found my will. I hope you are doing well and that everything is alright in your life._

_Now, I want to talk to you about what I left for you in my will. If your brother is alive, then you have nothing to worry about. However, if he dies, I want you to take over the family business. I am tired of seeing you following someone else's orders. A Moriarty is always a leader, not a follower. It may seem like a lot to handle but I know that you're more than capable for the job. For one, you're better at handling your emotions around others (unlike James). You can talk and negotiate easily and I taught you everything you need for this kind of scenario._

_I am absolutely serious when I say that you will be killed if you don't take the job. I don't want the empire to die out. My grandfather, my father, and I have worked too hard to let this business go to waste. This has been in three generations of our family and I'm sorry to do this to you but you know how important this is to the family. I have trained you all your life for this. Take that into consideration when you make your choice. You're a lovely girl and I know that you'll make the right decision._

_Love,_

_Dad_

* * *

"This...can't be right! I'm not made for this! Sebastian, this has to be a mistake." Molly insisted, her voice filled with panic.

"It is correct. It has to be like this." He said gravely.

"B-but, can't you ignore it? What's the consequence of not doing this anyway?" She cried.

"He talked it over with everyone before he died, even your brother. We all know what to do if you don't take this job. There isn't anywhere you can hide. We will find you and kill you if you try to run." Sebastian said quietly.

"I'm your cousin! Would you really try to-" She began. He cut her off with a hand.

"I'm afraid that we would. The family is just as important to you as it is to us. Your father was careful in making sure that his empire wouldn't die, so his acts should not be in vain. Besides, you should see this as a blessing. You can finally escape this dull life of yours and that absolutely unbearable and arrogant man that you insist on helping." He scoffed.

"Sherlock? He's not...well, he's bearable." Molly protested.

"Oh, please. He killed him, Molly. Didn't you care about **him** at all?" Sebastian said. She glared at him and folded her arms across her chest.

"I cared a lot for my brother. Don't ever tell me that I didn't." She hissed.

"I know you cared. I know that you care for Sherlock too." He said. Molly's eyes widened and her words died on her tongue.

"Wait...w-what?" She stuttered. Sebastian grinned and leaned back in his chair.

"I've been watching you for the past few months. I've seen you around him. You're like a lovesick schoolgirl, stutter and all. But none of that matters now, does it? He's got a girlfriend now, doesn't he?" He drawled.

Bingo.

"Honestly, I don't know what you see in him. He treats you like trash everyday. I wonder how you can take this kind of treatment everyday." Sebastian continued. He had hit her where it hurt most and knew that he was on the right track. Molly would agree somehow.

"Seb, stop. I don't want to hear this now." Molly said. Her voice came out louder than she intended and knew that she was just saying this out of sheer desperation. She had to make him stop, before he would re-open the wound that she had tried to hard to numb.

"How does it feel, to be pushed aside for someone that he's barely known? It must feel horrible, knowing that a slut is in his arms when it really should be you. You hope that they'll break up soon but your chances look slim. It kills you inside, every time you fake a smile just to get by." Sebastian continued.

"I know what you're trying to do. You can't guilt me into joining you, so stop it." She snapped. There was a wicked smile on his face and he let out a laugh.

"Oh, Molly. I'm not trying to guilt you. This is the truth, and you know it. You hide from this every day and I think that it's time we confront it, don't you think?" Sebastian said.

"I don't need to confront anything. I'm fine." Molly said sharply. There was a steely glint in her eyes and this was her last attempt at getting him to stop talking about Sherlock. She didn't want to cry over him. Not now.

"How sad. Little Molly's in denial. You just can't come to terms with the fact that he's with someone else. And what's more, Irene rubs it in your face every time you see her. She's proud of the fact that she's beaten you (not like you were a **_REAL_ **rival to her anyway) and she's not afraid to brag about it. Dear me, what a girl." He said.

"Shut up, Sebastian." Molly growled. Right now, she hated Sebastian more than anything else in the world. First, he came to her with an unrefusable offer and was sitting with her, exposing every aspect of her emotions that she had fought so hard to bury. She had tried so hard to hide how she really felt from everyone but he had known everything from the very start. He was reading her like a book, for God's sake!

It was something that Sherlock always did.

"You know, I can't believe that you would put a stranger before us in terms of priorities. We need you but you still insist on following the man who killed him and broke your heart. It's insulting, really. It's as if you're giving us a giant middle finger, that you don't care for any of us at all." Sebastian said. Bingo. Something flashed in Molly's eyes and she backed off a little. This was the coup de grace, the icing on the cake. On top of exposing her feelings, he was accusing her of hating her family. He didn't care if it was true or not but it would be enough to make her accept the job.

"I do care..." She said, her voice faltering. Molly didn't lie a lot, but she let this one go. It was a tiny white lie, one that she hoped would go unnoticed. But it didn't. Sebatian interrupted her with a shake of his head.

"No, you don't. You were out of contact with us for the longest time. From what I sense, you don't want anything to do with us." Sebastian said casually. Oh, he had her now. Molly looked so frustrated with him and she looked ready to cry. He could even see the fresh tears pooling in her eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek and she covered her eyes with her hand.

"Just stop it. Quit doing this to me." She mumbled. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks and from his seat, Sherlock watched the scene unfold before him with growing interest. He had overheard some of their conversation and from what he understood, Molly was being offered a job and she was convinced that she couldn't do it.

However, he didn't know that if she didn't take it that she would die.

The man across from her was saying things that were pushing her to the edge. He had discreetly moved to the table that was behind theirs and stayed hidden by the man's figure. From there, he watched Molly's reactions and heard him saying things about someone that Molly loved. He realized almost instantaneously that this man was talking about him and Irene. Sherlock had never seen Molly cry or get angry and there was an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach that he had never felt before. This time, he could not fathom nor expel it.

What was happening to him?

Molly wiped her tears out of her eyes and glared back at Sebastian. Her eyes were still full of pain but she held her composure and folded her hands in front of her.

"The solution is simple. You need to get away from him. If you take the job you can heal your broken heart and move on with your life. It's plausible, isn't it?" He said, leaning back in his chair. Molly didn't answer him and continued to glare at him.

"Who knows? You might finally grow a spine while you're with us, and make a worthy rival for Miss Adler. If you were more like her, a more wicked girl, then maybe he could take you. Well-behaved women rarely make history, you know." Sebastian said casually. Shock was written all over her face and she stared incredulously at him.

Did he really just say that?

Something snapped inside of Molly and fury began to take over. He had pushed her too far now by telling her how much better Irene was compared to her. Her entire body was shaking slightly in sheer anger and she folded her hands over her lap.

"Sebastian, stand up." She said quietly.

"I beg your pardon?" He said mockingly.

"You heard me. Stand up right now." Molly said. Her voice was louder now and she stood up, motioning for him to follow. He shrugged and got to his feet.

"What is it?" Sebastian asked.

"Listen up, Seb. I know what I want for my life and what you're offering me isn't what I'm looking for." She hissed.

"Ah, so that's a no then," He muttered. "Well, just remember what happens when you refuse. We'll kill you and we'll kill him too."

Molly stared at him once more. She thought that it wouldn't be possible to shock her anymore than he had done already tonight, but she thought wrong. "You wouldn't dare." She whispered.

"I would dare. You know who I am and what I'm capable of." He said. Molly's temper flared and she grew even angrier than she had been before.

What happened next was enough to shock Sherlock and everyone else in the restaurant. Sebastian looked back up at Molly and she punched him square in the jaw. It made an audible smack and he was knocked to the ground. Everything in the restaurant seemed to stop and people were staring in shock at this tiny woman, punching a man a foot taller than her. Molly glared at him and walked over him, her heels poking into his stomach. She began to make her way out of the restaurant and Sebastian sat up to see her go.

"You have five days to reconsider!" He yelled.

"Screw you!" She screamed in reply as she stormed off. Sebastian got to his feet and looked around at all the shocked customers.

"What are you looking at?" He snapped. Sherlock watched as the man threw money on the table and walked out. He shoved his hands into his pocket and started going the other way to leave. Sherlock laid some cash on the table and followed after them.

He stepped outside and saw the man getting into a silver Jaguar. Sherlock spotted Molly walking down the steps to the Tube station. He crossed the street, dodging several cars, and chased after her. Sherlock had to know what that was about. He saw her light brown hair and ran after her.

"Molly!" He yelled, vaulting over the barrier. She stiffened and started to run. Molly recognized that silky, baritone voice. It was Sherlock. She ran faster, desperately trying to escape him. Molly wasn't in the right state to deal with him at the moment.

She caught sight of the train tracks and nearly cried out in relief when she heard the train approaching. Molly knew that this wasn't the right one but she didn't care. All she needed was to get away from him. By the time she got to the platform, a few people were getting out and the train was empty. Molly was about a foot away from the entrance but suddenly she felt someone grab her hand.

"Molly." He said. She didn't turn around and ignored him.

"What did that man do to you?" He demanded.

"Sherlock, not now. I'm not dealing with you right now." Molly said firmly. Had he heard everything that Sebastian had said to her?

Did he know how much she was hurting over him?

"Molly, please. I need to kno-" He began.

"_Doors closing in 9 seconds. Please step back_." A pleasant female voice said over the intercom, interrupting his sentence.

"You don't need to know anything! Just leave me alone!" She snapped. Molly yanked her hand away and dashed into the waiting train car. She heard the doors shut behind her and turned back and stared at him. He was looking at her intently and she had to look down to escape his intense gaze. The train lurched forward and she watched his figure getting smaller and smaller until he faded away in the distance.

* * *

Damn. Things got pretty real in this chapter, if I do say so myself. Molly punched a man in the face.

But anyway, leave a review! By the way, check out the cover to _Miss Moriarty_ if you've got time. I made it myself :)

-uniquename200


	3. Chapter 2: Can You Feel The Pressure?

First of all, HOT DAMN. Ten reviews for just one chapter!? And you all posted on the second day too!** THAT'S THE FIRST TIME THAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME.** I can't even begin to tell you guys how much I love you. **EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU.**

Anyway, thank you so much! I was having a horrible day (stupid people were being even more stupid than usual :|) and then I came home and checked my reviews. By the time I was done reading every one, I got as excited as Sherlock gets whenever he gets a serial killer case. I swear, I was jumping around like a five year old. It was AMAZING. Thank you again to everyone! Enjoy your read :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, just this story.

* * *

**_(September 25, 2011- 8:39 AM)_**

Molly awoke to the sound of raindrops clattering loudly against her windowsill, like a hail of gunfire. It was one of London's notoriously crappy days and it did nothing to improve her mood. Sebastian's offer disturbed her and she knew that she would have no choice but to take it. That part bothered her the most.

She lay quietly in her bed and stared up at the ceiling. It sounded childish and cowardly, but she was afraid of coming out of her house. Sherlock would probably be asking her about her little scene at the café last night and she wasn't sure if she could face him. Molly couldn't believe that she had punched Sebastian but was proud of herself for it because he really did deserve it. Who wouldn't want to punch a man like him after what he said to her? Maybe she could call in sick for a few days, just to avoid all this trouble. He did say she had five days to reconsider, so she might as well do it.

She tossed aside her bedcovers and grabbed her cellphone, which sat on top of her dresser. Molly let out several coughs and tried to make her voice sound as raspy as possible. When she decided that it would be alright, she dialed her boss' number and waited for him to pick up.

"Hello, Dr. Morrison's office. I'm Mary, his secretary. How may I help you?" A voice said. Molly breathed a sigh of relief. It was just Mary. She could act normally around her.

"Morning, Mary. It's Molly." She said.

"Oh, Molly! I was just going to talk to you today, but I completely forgot what I was supposed to say. What did you need?" Mary asked.

"Will you tell Dr. Morrison that I can't come to work today? I've got the flu and I might be out for three days." Molly replied.

"What? You never use up any of your sick days! Except that one time..." Mary said, her voice trailing off.

"I know. Just tell him that I'm really sorry." She said.

"Wait a second, I think I understand. You only used three of your sick days when you got depressed over Sherlock and Irene's relationship. As far as I know, you usually come to work even if you're ill. What happened really? Is it about Sherlock again?" Mary whispered.

"Mary, you're being ridiculous. It's not about him. I really am sick." She lied.

"It can't be. You sound fine. But! if it is about that curly haired bastard, I will send John to Baker Street to punch his lights out!" Mary replied

"John wouldn't do that. He's much too nice to go up to someone and punch them in the face!" Molly exclaimed.

"My husband may be a total sweetheart, but he won't be afraid to punch Sherlock. Honestly, I'm not sure how you could put up with that man without wanting to punch him at some point." She muttered.

"Mary, it's not about Sherlock. I have to get some things sorted out and I need some time. Just tell Dr. Morrison that I've got the flu. Please?" Molly pleaded. There was silence and Mary finally let out a sigh.

"I guess so. I'll do it if you promise to me that it really isn't about him." She said.

"I promise." Molly replied.

"Alright. Enjoy your three days off!" Mary said. She said goodbye and hung up. Molly set her phone back down and headed out of the bedroom.

She padded to the kitchen and nearly tripped over her cat, Toby. Molly gave Toby a heaping bowl of kitty food and scratched him behind the ear. The fluffy orange tabby meowed at her and she petted him for a while. She set him down and headed to the bathroom for a long shower. Molly let the warm water flow on her skin and she stood there, thinking about everything and nothing all at once. When she got out of the shower, she dined on a simple meal of cereal and toast.

After her meal, she sat on her couch and thought hard about her life. Molly thought about what was important and what was not. At around five thirty, she heard someone knocking softly on the door. Molly stayed still and waited for it to pass.

"Molly? I know you're in there. I need to talk to you." A voice said. She smiled inwardly, knowing that it was Sherlock. So he did care. Or maybe he was just curious about what happened last night. Either way, it didn't really matter to her. He didn't need to know about any of this.

She heard the flap to the mail slot open and knew that she had been spotted. "I can see you, Molly." Sherlock said.

"So?" She called back.

"I need to talk to you." He insisted. Molly went silent for a while before she decided to give him an answer.

"No. Come back tomorrow." She said firmly.

"But-"

"Come back tomorrow, Sherlock." Molly repeated. There was an edge to her voice and it was a tone that dared him to argue.

But he didn't.

Instead, he let out a sound of annoyance and stood up. She heard the metal flap clatter back into its original position and let out a sigh. She had sent him away today, but what about tomorrow?

Well, she did the same exact thing. When he came the next day, she told him to come back again tomorrow, in an attempt to stall him. After a lengthy argument with him, he finally went away. Sherlock told her that he would get in somehow but she highly doubted that. She had only one key, since the other had seemingly disappeared.

On the third day, she waited for him to come by. This time, she wondered if she could still refuse him like she did before but was sure that he would find some way to talk to her. Molly heard a key turn in the door and was surprised to see Sherlock walk in.

"How did you..." She began.

"You gave me a key to your house while I was staying with you." He deadpanned.

"Oh. That's right." Molly said blankly, suddenly remembering where that other key had gone. Sherlock sat next to her and she saw something strange in his eyes. What was it?

Was that...worry?

No, it couldn't have been. Sherlock was just...well, he was Sherlock. He didn't care for anyone except for himself.

And Irene, supposedly.

She suspected that it was concern, but didn't say anything for fear of being terribly wrong and being ridiculed for her mistake. Molly leaned back in her seat and stared at the wall in front of her to avoid his gaze. "What do you want?" She finally said.

"I want to know what happened at Café de Lhullier. Who was that man?" He said.

"Why were you following me?" She shot back.

"Answer my question first." Sherlock replied smoothly. There was a frown on her face but she answered him anyway.

"He was an old friend of mine with a job offer." She said carefully.

"He didn't seem like a friend after you punched him in the face." Sherlock said casually.

"In my defense, he was being persistent to the point of annoyance." She shot back.

"Hm. So tell me, why has he been watching you?" He asked.

"He...wanted to make sure I was right for the job. Now it's your turn to answer me. Why were you following me? Do you always have to poke your nose into everyone's business?" Molly said.

"It started out with that phone call. I thought it was strange that you knew something as strange as Romanian. On top of that, you seemed quite annoyed when you answered the phone. That's why I followed you." He said.

"But it's none of your business." She said. There was a hint of anger in her eyes and she turned to look at him, daring him to say anything else.

"I heard him talking badly about Irene and I. That makes it my business." Sherlock replied in a deadly tone. She let out a sigh and leaned back once more. Molly really didn't want to pick a fight with him because she knew that she would lose.

"Lay off, Sherlock. Don't delve into matters that don't concern you." She murmured. In the back of her mind, she sensed that this conversation was going to turn into a fight if she didn't stop him now. He was asking such pressing questions and she was unsure of what more to tell him.

She had said quite a bit already.

"He called my girlfriend a slut. He said I treat you like trash, when in reality, I do not. Like I said before, you do count." He hissed. Molly stared at him for a while and suddenly started to laugh.

"What?" Sherlock demanded.

"Do I really count? Somehow, I can't quite believe that." She said.

"Molly, you've helped me without question for as long as I can remember. You helped me successfully fake my death that day. To add to all of that, you an...excellent pathologist and I don't think you give yourself enough credit. I think it's safe to say that...well, you do matter." He said in a controlled voice. Sherlock paused at some parts and she didn't realize how hard of was for him to admit all of this.

"How odd. I thought I was just a pawn on your chessboard, ready to be disposed of when I lose all usefulness." She said coolly.

"Molly, that's not wha-" He started to say. But something had snapped inside of Molly and she realized that she was right and his words were just words. He was just saying all of this to make her feel good about herself! None of this could be true!

"You know what? You're always so mean to me and you're only nice to me when you need a favor from me, like examining corpses that are meant to be private! My boss would fire me on the spot if he knew what I was doing!" Molly said fervently.

"That isn't true. You and I both know that." He said sharply. She knew he was starting to get angry but she was too caught up in her emotions to stop talking. Fury had possessed her and she was not afraid to go toe-to-toe with Sherlock Holmes.

"How would I know? People take advantage of me every day, Sherlock. I know when I'm being used. I'm not as stupid as you paint to be." She said. Her words suddenly began to sink in and she swallowed a gulp. However, she knew it was too late to stop now. Molly was angry already. Adrenaline rushed through her veins and harsh words bubbled out of her tongue.

"I had hoped you weren't like them. I kept my faith in you and I really did love you. But when you chose Irene, I died a little. Now I understand that I never should have cared about someone like you. You know why? It's because egotistical, selfish bastards like you aren't meant to be with people that are your total opposite." Molly spat out bitterly.

She knew that this conversation was the result of bottling up her emotions from all the pressure she had faced in the past three months. Now, she was spilling her heart out to him because she was tired of leaving the broken shards of her heart behind her as she walked and having to constantly pick herself back up just to get herself through the day. She knew nobody would notice or care due to her seemingly cheerful demeanor but my god, was she sick of all of this now!

"Molly, stop it." He said softly. Sherlock's voice rang through her ears and was supposed to put an end to her cruel words but it didn't. She kept going because all these unhealthy feelings had to be put out of her system before she turned into a bitter and hateful creature.

"You never cared about me. You were just willing to do whatever it took to solve the case so you could get that high off of it." She hissed.

"Molly, I'm serious." Sherlock said in a warning tone. He sounded even angrier now but she glared at him with equal ferocity.

"And look! Now you're actually pretending to care because you can't bear to lose one of the most useful pawns you've ever had in your stupid little game!" She snapped.

"That's enough!" He yelled, grabbing her by the wrist. She went silent and fury vanished and turned into shock. Her eyes widened in horror when everything she had said sunk into her brain. Molly clamped her hands on her mouth, afraid that she was going to say more.

"Oh g-god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" She stammered.

"I clearly understood what you were saying." He said coldly. There was a feeling in Molly's heart that chilled her to the bone and she doubted that he would ever forgive her for this. How could she say such terrible things to him? She felt absolutely horrible for everything she had said and she looked down at her hands. She couldn't bear to look him in the eyes anymore. Molly knew that she had to get away from him. It would only get worse from here on out so she said the only thing that would get him away from her.

"Sherlock, go." She said.

"What? After everything you just said, do you honestly think I can walk away?" He said angrily.

"Please. Just go." She said softly. Molly was on the verge of tears now and it was taking all of her strength not to cry right then and there. She felt a tear stream down her cheek and she chose not to look up to meet his cruel eyes. Molly heard the door open and slam shut with a furious bang. All that remained was silence, one that left her with the unbearable feeling of defeat.

* * *

Hmm, no Irene here...but I can assure you that she'll show up soon! This was really short in my standards but I hope it was good. They had a fight, so I wonder how they'll handle that. And Sebastian's offer still stands!

So, as a prize for giving me so many AMAZING reviews, **chapter 3 will be posted this Thursday! **Mark your calendars and don't forget because **STUFF WILL BE GOOD**. I promise.

Anyway, I hope you'll liked it and leave a review!

-uniquename200

**_P.S. Don't be afraid to invite other Sherlockians to read Miss Moriarty! I like friends :D_**


	4. Chapter 3: A Choice Is Made

Hello again everyone! Thanks so much for all of your wonderful reviews! I should really answer some of your questions :D

**Guest #1: This story is totally a Sherlolly fic! It'll get there eventually but I guess I can just add little tidbits of Sherlolly in there.**

**Guest #2: I don't know how the suspense happened, but it's just there. I think I might have done that unintentionally but oh well! Whatever :)**

**MisplacedHyperQuill: Hi there! I'm glad you liked my adaptation of Mary (honestly, I thought people would hate it) and I hope you will continue to leave reviews!**

Ok, this chapter will be intense and it's super long for a good reason. You'll see why. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Sherlock is property of Gatiss and Moffat. I own this story though :)

* * *

After Sherlock had left, Molly merely stared at the wall and tried to cope with that feeling of defeat in her heart. With the way she acted and the things she had said to him, he probably hated her. Sherlock would go home to Irene and they would go on with their lives, in "love". Molly would be nothing more to him than a speck of dust, small and insignificant in his eyes.

It was over.

When she realized this, she did not cry but instead felt heartbreaking remorse for what she was about to do. Molly knew that she had no choice but to take Sebastian's offer. She was sure that she would regret it deeply, but she knew that if she refused that she would be killed and Sherlock would be dead too. However, if she agreed then she could delay his death and possibly find a way to get out of the job. It was risky and had a high chance of failure, but that was a risk she would be forced to take.

Molly had to resign from St. Bart's.

She sat down at her computer and wrote a proper resignation letter. Molly put it in an envelope and looked at it with a twinge of finality and sorrow. She hated this. All of this. Why did it have to be this way? Damn her father! What...sort of sick man was he, to control her life so well, even from beyond the grave? It just wasn't fair!

But then again, life was rarely fair. Still, she was extremely bothered by all of this. Molly had also called Sebastian earlier and he was thrilled to hear what she had to say. He immediately set up a flight for her on the family jet. It was in five days, which gave her barely enough time to get packed and also to finalize everything. The flight would leave at eight in the evening, bound for Geneva. That was where most of the family was at the moment and they would talk with there with everyone to initiate their new boss.

Molly lay down on the couch and breathed a heavy sigh. Her eyes fluttered shut and she tried to sleep, to forget about what happened, even if it was only for a moment. The shrill ring of her telephone interrupted her and she scowled in annoyance. Molly let it ring and finally, she heard the answering machine pick up.

"Hi Molly, this is Mary. I finally remembered what I was supposed to tell you and I wanted to invite you to our housewarming party! We finished painting the place and the party is on Wednesday at six. I don't know where you are, but if you can show up then by all means do so!" Mary said. There was a click and she heard nothing but silence once again. Molly wondered for a moment if Sherlock was going to be there, but that would be a stupid question. Of course he would show up. There was no reason why he shouldn't. John was the closest thing he had to a best friend, after all. She tried to figure out how to decline Mary's invitation but was unable to think of anything. Maybe she could just pop in for a quick visit. Yes, that would work out perfectly! Her flight was at seven, so she could drop by the house before the taxi would take her to Heathrow. Besides, it would probably be the best. John and Mary would be there, so she could talk to them and not Sherlock.

After realizing that she wasn't going to sleep any time soon, Molly put on some nice clothes and took her letter. She took the Tube to St. Bart's, where she would present her resignation letter to Dr. Morrison.

Molly went up the elevator and walked past quiet hallways. It was four, which was near the end of the day and work ended at five. She passed Mary's desk and knew that she wouldn't be here because Fridays were her days off. Molly strode up to a door and knocked softly on the wood. She walked in and she saw her boss sitting wearily at his desk.

"Oh, hello Molly. I'm glad to see you're ok. Mary said you were going through something." He said politely. Paul Morrison was a short, balding man with weary grey eyes and was actually quite nice as far as bosses usually were.

"Yes, well...that's what I wanted to talk about, Dr. Morrison. I think this will help you understand." She said. Molly handed him the letter and he tore it open with a letter opener. She saw his eyes widen and after about thirty seconds, he set down the paper.

"Resignation? Molly, are you sure about this? It's quite unexpected." He said, sounding a little alarmed.

"It is unexpected and I'm really sorry for being so sudden. I just think that this decision is the best for me and I won't change my mind." Molly said smoothly.

"Well...this is going to be quite sad for St. Bart's. We'll lose our best pathologist. I'm not saying that out of flattery, but I'm saying this as a professional. You are our best." He said quietly.

"Thank you. I'm glad you think so, sir." She said. There was a long silence and he finally went over to the file cabinet and pulled out two file folders. He set them down on the desk and opened them so she could see.

"I respect your choice and I know it's not my place to argue. If you need to attend to your family first, then by all means, go for it. Sign your name here and fill out the form. We'll give it to the director when we're done." Dr. Morrison said. Molly took the papers and officially filled out her resignation form. He signed it and they headed up to the hospital director's office.

When they entered, they were greeted warmly by Emily Thomas, the hospital director. She was a kind woman who took time to know everyone who worked in the hospital. Emily noted Dr. Morrison's grim expression and sat them both down, wondering what was wrong.

"Miss Thomas, we need you to sign this. Our dear Molly is leaving us." He said. Her lips parted to let out a gasp and she stared at them in shock.

"Wait a second, you're letting our best pathologist go? Where are we going to find one as good as her?" She exclaimed.

"I don't know but I don't want her to go as much as you do." He muttered. Emily read over the letter and she set it down.

"You're really leaving, Molly? Are you sure?" She said.

"I'm sure about this, ma'am. I won't change my mind. I need to attend to important family matters." Molly said firmly. Her lips curved into a frown and she picked up a pen. Emily signed the letter quickly and handed it to her.

"Take this to the financial department. They'll give you your last paycheck. I'll let you clean out your work area." She said. Emily stood up and handed her the letter. She gave Molly a hug and gave her a sad smile.

"I'm sad to see you go, but I won't stop you. We appreciate everything you did for St. Bart's and you are great at what you do. Thank you so much, Molly." Emily said.

"Thank you, Miss Thomas." She said. Molly remembered that she wouldn't leave quite yet, and she didn't want any more surprises so she said one last thing.

"Oh, and could I ask something from the both of you?" Molly said.

"Yes?" They both said.

"Could you keep this a secret? I really don't want anyone to know that I'm going yet. I want to tell them when I'm ready." Molly asked.

"Our lips are sealed. Right, Dr. Morrison?" Emily said.

"Of course. Thank you again for your work here, Molly. Like Emily said, you are an excellent pathologist and we were lucky to have you. Have a good life, Miss Hooper." He said, giving her a hug. She said goodbye to both of them and made her way into the hallways once more.

Molly went down the elevator and received her final paycheck from the financial department. She entered the lab downstairs and cleared up her workspace, taking everything that was hers. As she was cleaning, she found several of Sherlock's things (his riding crop being one of them) and she put them on the table for him to take later.

By the end of her cleaning session, she had only filled a small box with all of her belongings. Molly had taken her pathology research papers, her medical tools, and her lab coat. Other than that, she didn't have anything else. Molly tidied up the lab and as she turned off the lights, she couldn't help but feel that the place felt emptier. Lonelier, even. She mumbled out a soft goodbye and took the Tube home.

When she got home, she decided to start packing for Geneva. It took several hours, but she finished cleaning her bedroom and the living room. There was a big box where she put all the stuff that she would give to the charity shop. Most of the items were little trinkets, like mugs and gifts that people had bought her for the holidays but had gone unused. She didn't have media related items since all of her movies and music were on her phone. Thank god for that! It made her whole life a lot easier. Molly was a music junkie at heart and she loved finding new and old songs that had gone mostly unnoticed by the general public.

She put her books on a chair, which consisted of her medical textbooks and several poetry books. Molly enjoyed reading Poe (his morbid works were such a pleasure) and she loved _The Great Gatsby_, _War and Peace_,_ Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_, and _Agatha Christie'_s works as well. She had a copy of _Winnie the Pooh_ that she had read over and over again as a child. Molly touched its wrinkled pages and cracked leather cover. She put it down in the suitcase and continued to empty her house. Molly ate dinner and took a shower, before going to bed.

For the next three days, she emptied her house of its contents and packed everything that she needed. Molly was bringing Toby along no matter what, so she made sure she had cat food and his things too. She cleaned the house until it was nothing but a bare apartment, with only a couch and a bed in it.

On the fourth day, she cleared up her final dues and made ready to leave London. It was a beautiful city that she hated to leave. Molly stared outside the window and ate her instant noodles in silence, wondering how her friends would react to this. It would come as a shock, so she hoped that they wouldn't hate her for leaving. She stood up and threw her food away, knowing that a walk around the city was in order. Molly put on her shoes and wandered aimlessly around London. She breathed in deeply, wanting to remember everything about this city, from how it looked to how it smelled.

Molly suddenly realized why she wanted to keep this all in her memory so badly. She feared that with all the time she would spend with her family, that she would turn into one of them and forget everything that was important. Molly held the city of London close to her heart because it was the one place where she felt like she was truly home. It was her safe place, the one city where she had gone so long without contact from her family.

In other words, it kept her pure.

Molly didn't want to turn into a monster, but that was eventually what a Moriarty came out to be. They would be lured by greed, lust, power...and lose themselves. Her relatives usually lost sight of who they were in the pursuit of their goals. All except her mother, of course. She didn't like what the Moriarty family did (a secret confided in utmost privacy) and was secretly very against it. Maria Moriarty protected Molly fiercely as a child and as a teenager, to make sure she didn't end up like them. But now, even she had to sacrifice her beliefs since Molly's father had died. Molly sat on a bench, stared at the sky, and mentally promised to herself that she would never be a monster.

"I'll never be like them. I swear." She muttered. Molly walked back home and went to sleep, preparing herself for the big day tomorrow. As she fell asleep, her words seemed to echo in her brain like a bad omen.

She had no idea how wrong she was.

* * *

_**(October 3, 2012- 10:38 AM)**_

Molly woke up to actual sunshine streaming on her face. She bolted up in bed when she thought that she was late for work. Molly relaxed a little when she realized that she had quit and stretched out on the bed. She got out of bed and walked into the kitchen. Molly felt Toby rubbing up against her ankles and she gave her cat a bowl of fish flavored cat food. She heated up her pre-packaged macaroni and cheese and ate silently. Her flight wasn't until eight, so she would probably spend her day finalizing her carry-on baggage and getting everything situated.

Molly charged her phone and put her wallet and other personal items in her black purse. She took out the trash and gave her landlady the final payment. Molly left briefly to find a housewarming present for John and Mary and she wandered around London's department stores, looking for something to buy. She finally gave up when she couldn't find anything that wasn't cheesy and made her way to a wine store. Molly bought them a bottle of aged cognac and two matching wine glasses.

On her way home, she took a cab to the Diogenes Club on Bourne Street. Molly gave some money to the cabbie and he gave her a winning (and somewhat creepy) smile. Why did he look so familiar? She chose to ignore it and got out of the car. Molly opened the door and stepped into a cool and quiet building.

She needed to have a little chat with him.

Molly walked confidently through the main hall of the club. Most of them stared at her like she was violating a time honored tradition but she didn't care at all. They made no sounds of objection and she assumed that women were allowed here. Oh, well. It wouldn't matter if she broke a few rules.

"I need to speak to Mycroft Holmes." She said loudly. No one looked up at her and she raised an eyebrow.

"Hello? I would like to speak to Mycroft Holmes," Molly repeated. "Do any of you talk? Hello?"

There was an older gentleman who let out a sigh and pressed a button on the side of the lamp. In the distance, Molly heard a door open and she saw Mycroft step out of the hall. He raised an eyebrow and motioned for her to follow him. They went into a room and she shut the door behind her.

"What brings you here, Miss Hooper? It's quite surprising, seeing a woman turn up in a gentlemen's only club." He remarked, sitting in a chair.

"I have a very...interesting matter on my hands." She said.

"And that would be...?"

"I have taken a job, the one my older brother left behind when he committed suicide. It isn't one I ever wanted to choose and I would like to make something akin to a truce." Molly said carefully.

"A truce? For what reason?" He said.

"I am the new leader of the Moriarty Network." She said. He stared at her in utter shock and she almost laughed at his flabbergasted expression.

"I thought...Jim didn't have a sister." He said.

"Wrong. There was a little girl born about a year after his birth. I am his younger sister and I have been more or less forced to take his position." Molly replied. Mycroft's expression morphed back into his usual, apathetic face and he nodded slowly.

"Well, this is quite a surprise. How did this happen?" He asked.

"It was a request in my father's will. If Jim dies, then I would be the one to take over the empire." She said. Molly chose to leave out the part where she would be killed if she didn't accept but he seemed to sense that there was something that she wasn't telling him. Maybe it was the look in her eyes that gave her away.

"There's more to it, isn't there?" Mycroft said.

"I...well, if I don't accept then everyone in the family has permission to kill me." She said softly. There was a glint of surprise in his eyes but it was gone the next time she looked.

"I see. What sort of truce are you proposing?" Mycroft said.

"I'll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine. It's as simple as that." She said.

"That sounds like a fair deal." He replied.

"Excellent. Now, I need you to do something else for me. You must never (and I mean **never**) tell Sherlock about this." Molly said firmly.

"Would this be considered a part of the truce as well?" Mycroft said.

"No, this is something that I'm asking of you personally. I need you to promise me to never tell Sherlock. Even if the truce is broken, you need to keep this a secret for my sake." She said softly. He looked amused and he leaned back in his chair.

"Alright. I won't tell him anything." Mycroft said.

"Thank you. That settles everything then." She said as she got to her feet. That had gone better than she thought it would. She picked up her bag and made her way to the door.

"One more thing." Mycroft said. She turned around and looked at him questioningly.

"What?"

"If one of us were to violate this truce and harm someone close to us (like Sherlock, for example), what would happen then?" He said.

"Well then, the truce will be broken and the game will be on." Molly said.

"That won't happen, will it Molly?"

"We'll have to wait and see." She said coolly. Molly walked out of the room, leaving him in a stunned silence. She walked out of the club and climbed into another cab.

It was about five o'clock so she entered her home and took a shower. As much as she wanted to wear her regular clothes, she knew she would have to dress up a bit. She was going to be the head of a criminal empire, so she would have to dress the part. Molly wore a little black dress that went down about mid length and wine-red tights. She had on a pair of patent-leather loafers with a lace pattern on them and a white trench coat. Molly paired it all with a red infinity scarf and she put a little mousse in her hair to mold it into soft waves. By the time she finished, it was nearly six and she was ready to go.

A sleek black SUV pulled over to the curb and she heard a honk from the car. Molly glanced down and nodded at the driver, who had exited the car. He came up and helped her load her things into the trunk. She took Toby's cage and turned off all the lights in the house. Molly said goodbye to her old home and walked out to the car. She asked the driver to drop by John and Mary's place first.

It was time to say goodbye.

_**(Meanwhile, with Sherlock...)**_

Sherlock sat at John's house, pretending to be interested in Irene's idle chatter. His current endeavors were proving to take longer than expected. He had started working on destroying the Moriarty Network a while ago but it was incredibly hard to trace anyone affiliated with it. Jim was careful with who he worked with and he really made sure not to leave evidence. The only way he would be able to find anything was with Irene's help. Being her boyfriend was merely a front. He had chosen Irene to be his girlfriend only because of the fact that she was well connected with both the government and the criminals.

In short, he was after her connections.

Sherlock was admittedly using Irene but when you put it that way, it didn't sound very nice at all. It didn't matter to him. He didn't love Irene. Everyone thought that he really was in love with her and he knew that Irene wasn't even aware of the fact that she was being duped. Sherlock had to keep up this disgusting façade, only until he had destroyed the Moriarty Network. But in the time that he had been dating her, he also noticed that she liked to point out the fact that she was his girlfriend. That initially hadn't bothered him at all.

Not until what Molly had said to him, of course.

Molly Hooper was one constant in his life, someone who would stand by him no matter what. She had always been like that and he didn't know why she was so undeniably loyal. It was like she worked hard in trying to prove that she was a good human being. He honestly hadn't put her feelings into consideration when he had chosen Irene and regretted not doing so. She had looked so hurt when he told her who his girlfriend was. Molly looked like she had been stabbed through the heart by a knife. It was so awkward after that. She would speak to him as little as possible and attempt to avoid him at all costs.

But what managed to impress him was how she handled it. Sherlock had seen through her fake smiles without any trouble but she actually faked being okay pretty well. John had voiced his opinion over this matter, asking him to consider her feelings for once. But other than that, no one else knew or saw how badly she was hurting. Molly had that gift of masking her true emotions from others. When she had finally exploded, her words were hurtful but he knew that he'd had it coming for quite a while now. What she had said left this wretched feeling in the pit of his stomach. It hadn't gone away for days now and that godawful sensation bothered him to no end.

See, this is why he hated sentiment. He absolutely abhorred anything more than total apathy. Why was that so? Simple. Sentiment was not an advantage. It was a fatal weakness that brought down empires and destroyed many lives and relationships in the process. It also made him vulnerable, like some hapless little fool. And ladies and gentlemen, Sherlock Holmes is **NOT** a fool. It was completely wrong for him to feel like this.

Especially over someone like Molly Hooper.

Sherlock shook off his thoughts and stared quietly at the wall, nodding occasionally to answer Irene's questions. John flitted by with a glass of water in his hand, obviously running off to find his wife. He found her in the dining room and set the glass down on the table.

"Dear, did you...uh, invite Molly?" John said awkwardly. He glanced over at Sherlock, but he didn't seem to hear him. Either that, or he just ignored him. Irene was talking animatedly about something, but John could sense that he was a little bored.

"Oh! I did, but I'm not sure if she's coming. They are here and he did just break her heart. It might be too much for her." Mary said.

"Right. In all honesty, he should've taken Molly. She would balance him out perfectly. With Irene...well, that's crazy plus more crazy. That won't work. I don't know what he was thinking." He replied.

"No one ever knows what he's thinking. You of all people should know that." Mary joked. The two laughed and continued to enjoy the dinner party. Near the middle of the soirée, the doorbell rang. Mary stood up to answer it and pulled open the oak door.

"Yes?" She said. Molly stood in front of her, holding a silver box. She gave Mary a shy smile and she looked a hell of alot better than she should have.

"Hi, Mary!" Molly said.

"Oh, thank god! I almost thought that you weren't going to show up. Come in!" She said, leading her inside. Molly walked into the dining room and saw John and some of her coworkers at the small housewarming party.

And then there was them.

Sherlock looked up and she dared herself to lock eyes with him. She couldn't help but feel that Irene looked smug, but Molly kept a straight face and pretended to look totally fine (which, mind you, was pretty damn convincing).

"Molly! Good to see you!" John said, giving her a hug. She handed him the box and smiled at him apologetically.

"Sorry, it's not much but I hope you like it." Molly said.

"That's all right! Come, have some dinner." Mary said. Molly had a few crackers but didn't really feel hungry. She munched quietly on her food and ignored Sherlock's searching gaze. He was obviously trying to judge her emotions but she wasn't going to let him do that. All she would have to do was to remain fine in his eyes.

"Miss Hooper." A voice said. Molly looked up and saw Irene standing next to her.

"Evening, Irene. How are you?" Molly said politely.

"Excellent. Baker Street is quite a nice place to live, don't you think so?" She said. Molly fought the urge to roll her eyes. There she went again, with her "good" fortune.

"I wouldn't know. I'm living down on Newbury Street." She said smoothly. Irene felt a little surprised by her bold answer and smiled politely.

"Well, Sherlock has been treating me quite kindly while I've been there." Irene remarked. Molly scoffed and there was a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

"Of course he would. You're his girlfriend. Would you expect any less? Must be an oversight on your part, Irene." She said.

"Getting snappy, aren't we? You're an interesting little thing, Miss Hooper. So...volatile." Irene said.

"You're not so normal yourself, Miss Adler. I suppose being a dominatrix makes that so." Molly said coolly.

"Insulting my job? Good golly, Miss Molly, the things I could do to you..." Irene hissed.

"You'd be surprised at the things I could do to you." She replied.

"Is that a threat?" Irene said, sounding surprised.

"A storm is coming, Miss Adler. My words are not a threat. Consider them a warning." She said slyly. Molly saw Irene staring at her, like she had just slapped her. She simply smiled and walked over to the trash bin. Molly threw away her plate and walked over to John and Mary.

"Mary, I can't stay for long. I just decided to pop in for a bit." She replied.

"Huh? Why not?" Mary said.

"Well...I'm leaving for a while." Molly said, fidgeting slightly with the edge of her clothes. Everyone in the room went silent and they all stared at her. Sherlock was the first to speak and even he looked taken aback.

"Wait, what?" He said. Sherlock had expected her to stay away from him for a while, but nothing to this extent.

How...interesting.

"How long is a while?" Mary said worriedly.

"Well...I don't know, really. I've been offered a really, really nice job." Molly said, giving them a tight smile.

"Is it official?" John said.

"Yeah, I've resigned from St. Bart's and I'm also going to go take care of my parents while I'm there." Molly said.

"Liar." Sherlock muttered.

"I'm sorry, what was that Sherlock?" She said sweetly.

"Nothing. I was just noting how obvious it is, the fact that you're lying to us." He said. Molly didn't know what to say and knew that he had seen through her feeble excuse. Sherlock stood up and headed over to her. She stayed rooted to her spot and looked at him straight in the eyes. John let out a groan and got ready to break it up.

"God, Sherlock, not now! We're in the middle of a dinner party, for christ's sakes..." He muttered.

"You're not just going to care for your parents. You're also running away. From me." He murmured.

"You know what they say, Sherlock. Blood is thicker than water. I won't abandon my parents if they're in poor health." She said.

"You mean mother. Your father is dead." He said automatically.

"How kind of you to remind me." Molly replied, giving him an icy smile.

"Tell me, what exactly did that man from the Café de Lhuiller say to you? He must have made you quite a good offer, one you can't refuse." Sherlock remarked. She let out a light laugh.

"You're right about that. There was no way I could refuse. But sadly, my world does not revolve around you. You're not the reason I'm leaving." Molly said coldly. She felt a jolt in her fingers and moved quickly to hide it but he had caught on. He studied her carefully and smirked.

"You twitched a finger at the last sentence. You looked up and shifted your hands a bit when you said that. God, Molly, your tell is obvious." He said. Her blood began to boil and she started to get angry at him. But her anger quickly faded when she realized that none of it mattered because...

She didn't count.

"You've always said such horrible things, you know? You've always jumped at the chance to criticize me. Well, it doesn't matter, I suppose. I never did count to you, and nothing you say will tell me otherwise." She said with a rueful smile. At the sound of her last comment, Sherlock's expression darkened and he tried to object.

"Molly, I've told you thi-" He started. Molly cut him off with a hand and smile sadly at him.

"I'm nothing more than a pawn. I helped you once, but that doesn't mean anything, does it? So, you're wrong. I am leaving of my own accord and if you can't accept that then I'm sorry. That's your problem, not mine." Molly said. She looked at him and dared him to say something else to her. He was silent and so was everyone else in the room. It was awkward to witness such a touchy conversation. Molly ignored it and turned back to Mary and John.

"I should get going. My flight takes off in an hour." She said apologetically.

"Oh, I'm gonna miss you. We're all gonna miss you. You'd better stay in touch." Mary said, giving her a hug.

"Be safe, Molly. St. Bart's just won't be the same without you. Don't forget about us, alright?" John said.

"Don't worry, I'll keep up with the blog, John. Keep solving those mysteries!" She said with a laugh. Molly said her goodbyes and finally, it came down to just Sherlock and Irene.

"Goodbye, Irene. It was nice seeing you," She said, giving her a polite smile.

"It was nice seeing you too, Molly. Good luck with your parents." Irene replied. There was a tense air around the two women that left people wondering what happened between them. She nodded and moved to say goodbye to Sherlock.

"Goodbye, Sherlock. I'll see you soon." She said. There was a note of finality in her voice and Molly shook his hand politely. He murmured out a quiet goodbye and they said nothing more to each other. Molly gave him one last look that seemed to ask him, "should I stay?" but he didn't speak. Her expression saddened and she towards the door. Molly waved goodbye and left the apartment.

Molly went to the waiting car and was driven in silence to Heathrow Airport. She went towards the security checkpoint and handed them her passport and boarding pass. It was still listed under the name "Molly Hooper", since she hated using anything else other than her current identity. After going through security, she went to gate C4 to get on the plane bound for Geneva.

Molly waited quietly in a plush but empty reception area. She touched the glass and heard rain pattering softly on the roof. It gradually got louder until the entire runway was wet. A small plane landed in the distance and after fifteen minutes, it had stopped in front of her gate. She picked up her bags and followed the obscenely cheerful attendant that was supposed to assist her. Molly walked outside, carefully avoiding puddles, and made her way onto the jet. She blinked in surprise when she saw her mother sitting in the seat, waiting for her.

"Mum! I wasn't expecting to see you here!" Molly exclaimed. The older woman gave her a bone crushing hug.

Her mother was a bird-thin and frail looking woman, but she was anything but. Maria Moriarty was still relatively young, about sixty years old. She was still strong, despite her age and had long chestnut coloured hair that was tied in a bun, framing her fierce features. She had sharp brown eyes that could make judgements in the blink of an eye. Molly's mother seemed terrifying to others. However, Molly liked to think of her as that charming, introverted mother who was slightly batty but still loveable. Normally, she was expressionless but today joy was painted across her face.

"Molly! Oh, it's been too long. Look at you, you've grown into such a lovely young woman!" She exclaimed. Molly gave her a hug and smiled. She was comfortable around her mum and they were as thick as thieves. Her mother squeezed her arms and a frown appeared on her face. She took her seat next to the window and her mother sat down in the seat next to her, looking concerned.

"What?" Molly said, sounding puzzled. She felt the plane lurch forward and it began to make its way around the runway.

"You're skin and bones, dear! Why haven't you been eating properly? Is your work affecting your eating patterns?" Her mother exclaimed, sounding concerned.

"Of course not! It's just- well, you know..." Molly mumbled. A look of realization crossed her mother's face and her eyes crinkled into a sly smile.

"I see. It's a boy then, isn't it?" She said with a grin on her face.

"Mum, I'm not twelve anymore. I don't brood over boys." Molly scoffed.

"Ah, but you're old enough to brood over a man. Who's the lucky guy?" She asked. Molly let out a sigh.

"I won't say much, but he's devilishly handsome. He's intelligent, sarcastic, and extraordinarily arrogant but somehow, I fell for him. He's broken my heart twice, once on Christmas and just a few months ago." She replied. Her mother let out a laugh.

"Your father was like that! He was arrogant, snarky, and unbearable at times but I still fell in love with him anyway. Love is quite strange, isn't it?"

"You have no idea." Molly muttered. The plane took off into the skies and soon, she found herself staring at a bird's eye view of London. Molly mentally pointed out every landmark she saw, smiling lightly when she remembered what it was like when she first got here. She would miss London dearly. Molly had lived here in peace for nine years. It was a happy time, which would be a stark contrast to what she was about to go through. Would it be worth it to play this game?

Or was she completely out of her league?

Either way, she didn't have any other options. Her choice had been made and there was no way she could do anything about it now. She would stick with this job, for better or for worse, and she would find some way to keep Sherlock safe. She let out a sigh and the sound of the rain pattering loudly against the plane's chassis brought her thoughts back to London. Molly touched the window and silently said goodbye to her old life.

And with that, Molly Hooper disappeared for good.

* * *

So yeah, that's it so far! I might have to post the next chapter a little bit late (it depends) because I actually don't have it written out yet. I'll try to get it up on Monday. That's a maybe.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the parts with Adler and Mycroft and don't forget to leave me a review! Comments, constructive criticism, and ideas are always welcome.

-uniquename200


	5. Chapter 4: The Return Of A Queen

**NO WAY. FIFTEEN REVIEWS IN ONE SHITTING AND THE COUNT IS UP TO FORTY-FOUR. SHUT UP!** That is too amazing and I love you guys so much! I'm freakin foaming at the mouth right now! I worked hard and got this done just to let you guys know how happy I am. I literally stayed up until probably three in the morning all weekend and I went through lots of coffee because I know how much you guys like these updates.

So, now that my bout of craziness has passed, here is the new chapter! I'm warning you, there is a time skip. But I think you'll enjoy it. I know I definitely enjoyed writing it.

**Questions Box!**

**Anon: That is a good question! I actually haven't noticed that until now so thanks for pointing it out. Think of it this way. The Moriarty Network is a huge criminal empire that spans the globe. If you're on a job in a different country, you've gotta have a place that you know is secure and has everything you need. Thus, different bases were established across the world with the central headquarters being the Moriarty Manor in England. I haven't done a full background thing but I will eventually!**

Wow, this turned into a long author's note really quickly. I wonder if anyone actually reads these little notes. Hey, if you're reading this then let me know by typing in "Reichenfeels" in the bottom of your review. I'm just curious, so yeah.

_**Disclaimer: Gatiss and Moffat own Sherlock. I own this story. What if Season 3 had an evil Molly? God, that would be badass.**_

* * *

_**(December 23rd, 2012- 7:27 PM)**_

_**Fourteen months later...**_

Spotlights shone brightly outside Buckingham Palace and reporters swarmed around the entrance, ready to catch a shot of some very important people. Tonight was the annual Scotland Yard Christmas Ball and would be attended by the local force in London and the officers overseas. The party was a co-collaboration between the prince and Scotland Yard. Special guests were invited, like England's prime minister and several other political figures to show gratitude towards their brilliant police force. They were also going to showcase the Hope Diamond in the main ballroom, a necklace that had come from America on display. It was here for the queen to see and would be moved to the National Gallery in a few days.

A sleek black sedan pulled up to the entrance and a woman stepped out of the car. It was Molly and she had very important business here tonight. She knew that the real Hope Diamond wasn't on display but was in the drawing room on the second floor. That would play a part in her well-orchestrated plan tonight. She had arrived in London at 6 AM and spent the whole morning making sure the plan would work. Molly had hidden a knapsack behind a tree at the side of the palace, a ziploc with a vial and clear nail polish in an out of order stall in the women's restroom, and a can of red spray paint in the storage closet next to the servant's staircase. That was all she needed tonight.

For the remainder of the afternoon, she stayed at her room at the Ritz London and got ready for the party. Tonight, she was in an white colored dress that was tight at the top but floated gracefully past her ankles. The straps were beaded and the dress was shaped in a sweetheart neckline. Her light brown hair was in tight ringlets and it shone in the bright flashes of the cameras. There was a device on her ear that looked like a Bluetooth earpiece but actually let her hear things from twenty feet away. She wore no jewelry and minimal makeup but that wasn't necessary.

Although her outfit was simple, Molly looked absolutely stunning by herself with shell pink lips and large doe eyes. Tonight her eyes were a lovely shade of dark blue, instead of their usual brown color. She wore sensible dancing shoes tonight, picking gold ballet flats instead of heels. Molly had an envelope and her iPhone in the hidden pocket of her dress and captured the attention of many reporters, who clamored for her attention. They attempted to ask her questions, curious to see who this gorgeous woman was. However, she merely gave them a smile and walked towards the man taking the invitations.

"Invitation, miss..." He said, trailing off.

"Miss Elena Robinson. Here you are." She said. Molly handed him a cream colored envelope and he looked at it carefully. He gave it to his assistant and let her pass. A smile crept up to her lips and she went through the doors. Molly went through the grand staircase and into the main ballroom. It was fairly crowded and people were either taking their seats at the table to eat or getting up to dance on the ballroom floor. Molly grabbed a flute of champagne and began to walk around. She spotted her friends almost immediately and they sat near the front of the room. John was with Mary, who had a very distinct stomach bump. Lestrade was talking with Donovan and Anderson. She looked around and saw Anthea and Mycroft on the dance floor, waltzing like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.

Then there was him.

Sherlock sat near the other end with Irene, looking extraordinarily debonair in a black tux. She was talking about something (a new client, perhaps) and Molly could tell by his searching glance that he was judging whoever walked by. Irene wore a shimmering green dress and had her hair in its usual bun. Sherlock wore an apathetic expression but she suspected that he was bored. Of course he would be! High-functioning sociopaths don't usually attend parties, do they?

Molly decided to approach them and figured that none of them would recognize her. She had grown thinner and fairer over the year because of her tough physical training. Molly had a knockout figure and her hair was only shoulder length now. She had some facial work done and Molly had changed up her facial appearance quite a bit. Her cheekbones weren't soft anymore and had been sharpened. Her features were even more fierce than they were before and she looked less and less like her old self, which was the intended objective. Molly couldn't have people recognizing her!

Her appearances weren't the only thing to change. Molly had grown accustomed to the criminal world and her attitude was different from before. She had gone from a demure and mousy girl to a rather sultry and dangerous woman in a matter of fourteen months. Being around her family was unknowingly turning her into a true Moriarty. The empire was successful under her command and she didn't know why but she found undeniable pleasure in watching it grow as the days passed. That fueled a desire to make it the best it could be. It made her lose sight of her original plan, which was to get out of the job. One might say she was even enjoying her work. It was, after all, in her blood to be wicked. Being bad had changed her (albeit, probably for the worse) and the criminal world seemed too fun to leave behind.

However, she still kept her old identity alive, so as not to cause any suspicion. Molly wasn't a full time pathologist, but instead she had gone into the medical engineering business when she wasn't busy working on the network. She had minored in the subject in college and she had a hand in helping to develop a new chemical compound to combat the common cold. Molly ended up on the cover page of a prominent medical magazine and she showed that her life was successful. She strode confidently to their table, walking a bit slowly to observe them.

Lestrade was the first to notice her. He stopped talking to stare, which made Donovan and Anderson look too. She watched as he ogled her quite obviously and Molly saw John and Mary just staring at her. She stopped to "look around" and heard them talking about her.

"Look at her, John! She's so pretty! I wish I were that sexy, but I can't be because of the baby..." Mary groaned.

"Who is she?" Lestrade said.

"Dunno. I've never seen her before. But somehow, she seems...familiar." John said. Molly decided that it was time to go and walked past them. She went forward and turned her head to look at Sherlock. Her eyes locked with his and she smirked at him before walking by.

"What can you say about her?" Irene said.

"The woman in the white came here alone tonight. How unusual. Weren't we required to bring a date?" He said thoughtfully.

"Yes, we were. Except Lestrade, of course. I wonder why?" Irene replied.

"He's Lestrade. He can't get a date if his life depended on it. Anyway, but the way she holds that undrunk champagne glass, it tells me that she's not here for fun. This woman has a purpose." Sherlock said.

"There's something that's sort of familiar about her. What is it?"

"I'm not sure. I don't think I recognize her." He replied. Molly knew that she had piqued his interest and went towards the grand staircase. She hung around at the back and waited for Sherlock and Irene to dance. She would confront him there. In the meantime, she would work on getting some fingerprints. Molly found Henry Delacroix, the representative from the Smithsonian Museums in America. He was sent to oversee the Hope Diamond's stay in London. He had a wizened face and a jolly smile on his face.

"Mr. Delacroix!" Molly said. He turned to look and she gave him a charming smile. She held out a hand and shook his.

"Good evening, miss. Do I know you...?" Henry said, sounding confused.

"I don't think so. However, I am a fan of your work on the Smithsonian Museums in America. They are a cultural treasure!" Molly said enthusiastically.

"Thank you, madam. Comments like that make an old man like me a little happier." He said jovially. She laughed and offered him a glass of champagne, which he downed in less than a minute. Molly pretended that she was an art college graduate and talked to him about the different museums in London before standing up.

"Well, I must be going. Here, I'll take your glass." She said.

"Thank you. You never told me your name." Henry said.

"It's Elena. Thanks again, Mr. Delacroix!" She said. Molly went away and walked towards the bathrooms. The ladies room was empty and she locked the door behind her. Molly went inside a stall that was seemingly out of order but it was where her items were hidden. She lifted up the toilet cover and took out a ziploc bag. Inside the bag was a bottle that held a chemical and clear fingernail polish. She put a couple drops on the glass and was able to retrieve Henry's fingerprints. She grinned and took a bottle of clear nail polish and painted her fingertips. Molly pressed each finger onto the prints and Henry's fingerprints became hers. She shattered the glass and flushed each piece down the toilet, so that no one would get any of the evidence.

Molly made her way through a darkened hallway and slipped on a pair of wrist-length, ivory gloves. As she passed by the bathrooms, she threw the vial and the polish into a trash bag. She came back to the ballroom and ignored every unwanted advance that came her way (Lestrade's, in particular). Soon, the music turned into a lively waltz and Sherlock led Irene to the ballroom floor. They whirled around gracefully and Molly waited for the song to end. The strings stopped playing and people began to clap. Molly headed out of her hiding spot and the music switched into a sultry tango song. She deftly switched Irene with a different partner, leaving her with Sherlock.

"Mind if I cut in?" Molly said.

"You've done it already. Why would you ask?" He said.

"Forgive me for trying to be polite, Mr. Holmes." She replied. They spun around once and continued to tango.

"Who are you?" He said.

"Elena Robinson." Molly said smoothly. Her finger twitched slightly and she tried to look confident.

"Liar. Give me your real name."

"Alright. My real name is Elizaveta." She said. Molly felt her pinky shift slightly and knew that this was half true. That was her middle name, after all.

"You're still lying. Why do you look so familiar?" He said, looking annoyed.

"How can you tell?" Molly demanded. Sherlock smirked and dipped her down. Their faces were dangerously close and she could feel a blush creeping up to her cheeks. Damn it, she was supposed to be emotionless tonight! What was it with him being around her that made her blush profusely?

"Your finger twitches when you lie. You also look up slightly. Now, who the hell are you?" He said. She burst out laughing, since he had told her this about fourteen months ago.

"Oh, that's cute. I'm not telling you, since there's no fun in that. That's not how the _game_ works, Sherlock." She said. He raised an eyebrow at the mention of a _game_.

"A game?" He echoed. The music swelled to signal that they were near the end and she knew that it was time to go. She traced a gloved finger on his cheekbones and tiptoed to whisper in his ear.

"I am here to finish what he started. The game is on and you are going to play." She whispered. He was speechless for a while and she glanced at him and then at the diamond in the case behind him.

"That diamond is a fake. I might nab the real one as a little souvenir before I go." She whispered. Molly kissed him sweetly on the cheek and gave him a smile. "I'll see you around, Sherlock."

Molly let him go and began to walk away. Blood pounded in her ears and she left the dance floor. She had never been so bold with him before. Adrenaline surged through her veins and she saw Irene looking at her in disbelief as she left. Molly left Sherlock on the ballroom floor to stare at her in shock. She went through the servant's staircase and up to the second floor. On her way there, she grabbed the can of spray paint from the storage closet.

Molly went to the door of the room and put her phone in front of the scanner. She pressed an icon that would get rid of the security precautions in the room by emitting a frequency that was designed to confuse the system. From there, it would switch wavelengths and attack the inner system. Her phone had a custom operating system that was built by a brilliant but somewhat suspicious software engineer from Germany. It worked quickly, disabling the lasers that had been installed in the room. Molly also decided to leave the cameras alone, as proof that a Moriarty was still out there. The Holmes brothers weren't alone in the world. There was a click and the light on the scanner turned green. Molly put her phone back in her pocket and stepped in.

The Hope Diamond was held in a glass case at the center of the room and there was a small keypad at the side that could only be opened by Delacroix's fingerprint. She took off her a glove and put her thumb on the pad.

Click!

Molly put her glove back on and smiled. She actually wasn't here to steal the diamond. She was here to convince Sherlock that she was sent by Jim and that he was still alive. Molly was also supposed to garner attention from the public with her act, which is why she was going to spray paint the room and also why she broke into a safe. Her relatives had called a family meeting about a month before and everyone had decided that this was what they wanted. Everyone told her that it would be the best revenge for Jim's death. She didn't refuse because she knew that it was better to obey or else she would be killed. Besides, wouldn't it be fun to vandalize a room in Buckingham Palace?

She took out the spray paint and began to make her mark. Molly wrote one phrase on the wall, which was: **THE GAME IS ON**. She wrote it on the glass and basically covered the entire room with graffiti. Molly took the diamond and headed over to the mirror. Out of sheer impulse, she tried it on and looked at her appearance. How pretty. It went quite beautifully with her dress. She stood at the mirror and waited for them to arrive.

It would only be a matter of time before the game would officially begin.

_**(Meanwhile, with Sherlock...)**_

Sherlock felt himself being pulled off the dance floor by an absolutely livid Irene. She was firing off questions that he was too shocked to answer at the moment. Sherlock was too busy thinking about that woman and what she said to him. This couldn't be happening. What relation could she have with him? By he, she was referring to Jim. But did he ever have a sister? He thought about that possibility but found that he couldn't think straight. His thoughts were jumbled and her words rang through his ears, clear as a bell.

"-ho was she? Why in the hell did she kiss you?" Irene demanded, bringing him out of his thoughts and back to reality.

"For god's sake, woman, will you shut up? I am trying to think!" He snapped. She went silent immediately and he ran a hand through his hair. Without warning, he sprang out of his chair and went straight to Mycroft.

"We need to talk. Did you see her?" He said, interrupting his conversation with Anthea.

"Ah, yes. I do believe I saw you with that woman. Who was she?" Mycroft said as he fiddled with the handle of his umbrella.

"I don't know. However, she talked about a game that her older brother never finished. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Sherlock said. Mycroft's eyes narrowed and he stood up.

"Sounds like we're dealing with a Moriarty," He replied in a low tone. "Did the woman say anything else?"

"She's after the diamond, the real one." He said. The two men headed up the staircase and began making their way to the room on the second floor. Sherlock caught a concerned glance from John but he ignored it and followed after his brother. Mycroft actually looked quite angry and he took out a card from his pocket. He placed it in the scanner and the door opened with a loud click. The two men walked into the room and both were surprised to see all the paint on the walls, saying "**THE GAME IS ON**".

And there she was.

She stood in front of the mirror, casually fixing her appearance. Molly turned around and gave both of them a smile.

"And the Holmes brothers have arrived. I'm glad to see that both of you made it to the soirée tonight." Molly said. Mycroft leaned on his umbrella and looked at her carefully. Sherlock ignored his brother and approached her.

"Vandalism? Stealing jewelry? Isn't that a bit low for a Moriarty's tastes?" He said.

"I wasn't stealing it. I was trying it on. Diamonds are a girl's best friend, after all. Looks good, doesn't it?" Molly said innocently, twirling around once gracefully.

"That's not important. Who are you?" He demanded.

"Oh, me? I can't tell you yet. You get to figure that out on your own." She said, letting out a light laugh.

"Tell me, what does Moriarty's side have that you need?" Sherlock said, coming towards her.

"You know what they say. Blood is thicker than water, Sherlock," She said in a sing-song voice. His eyes narrowed into a suspicious glare and she gave him a slight smile. Molly remembered that she had told him this when she last saw him and decided that she would leave it as a clue for him.

"I believe you have crossed the line, Miss Moriarty." Mycroft said, interrupting their conversation.

"I never assured you that I wasn't going to do this. Ah, c'est la vie. It was inevitable. You know that much, don't you Mycroft?" She said softly.

"Would you really like to play this game? I can assure you that you will be outwitted and hilariously outgunned." He said, his lips curving into a cold smile.

"You'd be surprised at the things I can do. I did just disable your security system, open a safe, and steal one of the rarest jewels in the world." Molly pointed out.

"Hmm. The man who made this safe clearly stated that this safe is virtually uncrackable. I will admit that you are quite clever, just for getting in." Mycroft said.

"Is that flattery I see? What are you trying to tell me?" Molly said.

"I'm saying that you can't have those. I'm afraid would cause quite a ruckus between America and Britain. We can do this the easy way or by force, Miss Moriarty. Which will it be?" He replied.

"It would be ungentlemanly for you to beat up a woman. It would also be quite wicked of me to beat up a man of higher status." Molly said. She grinned and knocked the umbrella out from under him and Mycroft fell flat on his chest.

"Oops." Molly said, putting a hand to her mouth mockingly.

"Hey!" Sherlock said sharply.

"But, I guess I can be a little bad sometimes if I want to be. Now if you excuse me, I'll be going!" Molly said. She unlocked the window and sat on the open windowsill. She heard the click of a trigger behind her and saw Sherlock pointing a gun at her.

"Make your move, Miss Moriarty. I will shoot you." He sneered.

"No, you won't. Once you find out who I am, you wouldn't even dream of pointing a gun at me," Molly hissed. She unclasped the diamond and wiped the bottom edge of the metal with her finger before tossing it at him.

"Here you are. Losing the Hope Diamond would put your dear brother in a world of trouble, wouldn't it?" She said.

"Your name." Sherlock said quietly.

"Hmm...?" She drawled. Oh, she was just teasing him now. Tonight was probably her most devious behavior to date.

"**YOUR NAME**!" He yelled. Molly smiled sweetly at him.

"I won't tell you. Until we meet again, Sherlock." She said, giving him a mock salute. Molly threw herself back, with her arms above her head, and she flipped gracefully off the second story window. The fluttery fabric of her dress momentarily blinded her but she flipped back and braced for impact. Molly heard a shot fired above her that hit the tree a second too late as she landed gracefully on the grass. He appeared at the window and she gave him a devious grin before beginning to walk away. Molly turned to the right and saw a large tree to her side. She quickly ducked behind it and grabbed something off the ground. It was the backpack she had stashed there earlier and it was full of spare clothes. Molly grabbed it and went through the front gates. She more or less sprinted down Buckingham Palace Road. There were no sirens yet, but there would be soon. The snowflakes clung to her lashes and the hot air from her mouth turned to vapor around her. God, it was freezing. She ducked into a public restroom on Bressenden Place and stopped to rest a bit.

When she had finally caught her breath, she began to work on changing her appearance. She heard sirens and knew she would have to act quickly. Molly threw away her contacts and opened the backpack. There was a sweater, a hat, socks, pants, fake black glasses, sneakers, and a warm coat in the bag. She crammed her white dress in there and put on her beanie. Molly then exited the restroom in a new disguise and hailed a cab. Her phone beeped and she had a text from her cousin Karl, who was working with Sebastian to make her getaway as smooth as possible.

_**We've moved your things out of the hotel. You'll be staying at an flat. The address is 14 Wilton Row**_, the message said. She shut her phone off before realizing that she had no idea where that was.

"Miss? Where would you like to go?" The cab driver said.

"Hang on a sec." Molly said. She opened up Google Maps and searched up her new address. Molly almost started to laugh when she realized where exactly she would be living.

"14 Wilton Row." She said, not taking her eyes off her phone.

"Where is that?" The driver said, looking at her from the rearview mirror. She looked up and stopped when she took a good look at his dark brown eyes.

"Hello?" He said, interrupting her train of thought. The driver looked back at the road and stopped looking at her. Molly thought she recognized these eyes but she shook off such silly thoughts. He was gone now.

But still, the driver did remind her of him.

"Uh, right. Sorry, it's near Kensington Gardens, in the Belgravia District." Molly said, giving him a polite smile. The car took off and she dialed a number on her phone. It rang twice before he finally picked up.

"Yes?"

"The Belgravia District? Really, Seb?" She said.

"Do you have a problem with that?" He joked.

"How ironic. Very funny, Sebastian." Molly said with a roll of her eyes.

"Anyway, how did it go?" He said.

"We can proceed as planned." She replied.

"Excellent. I'll see you soon, Molly." He said. She said goodbye and leaned back in the seat. The game had begun, but she still could not fight that odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Was this what she really wanted?

* * *

Okaaaaay...that's all I've got! I gotta get my ass in gear and write chapter five. Hell might ensue without it. Good god, the Moriarty family had done quite a number on Molly. What do you think will happen next?

Anyway, thanks for all the love! I can't believe how successful this fic is. No matter how stupid it sounds, it makes me really happy, writing stuff like this. I hope you enjoyed it and definitely leave a review! Remember what I said in the author's note earlier and add it in your review :)

As always, comments, constructive criticism, and ideas are welcome!

-uniquename200


	6. Chapter 5: The Cat And The Mouse

Hey guys! Thanks again for all your reviews (I won't freak out this time but I did get 26 this time!) I loved all of them and they make me oh so happy! I'm sorry this is late. I've been super sick. I passed out in the middle of softball practice on Wednesday and that's when I figured out that my cold just might be the flu. It's tons of fun and this is why I posted this now cause I can't freakin sleep.

By the way, I'm glad you all caught how it was inspired by Catwoman. She's just such a badass, though! I really couldn't help myself.

**_So anyway, I have a prize for everyone since we reached the big 50 (in terms of reviews). The prize is..._**

**_A tumblr!_**

**_Yes folks, I'm going to make a tumblr! My username on tumblr will just be uniquename200. That may not seem that cool but trust me, it is. I'll be posting little extras for my stories there (ex. fanmixes, fanart, videos, etc...) I hope you like it, so be sure to check it out!_**

**Disclaimer: Sherlock isn't mine, but this version of badass Molly is. Any** **questions?**

* * *

**_(December 25th, 2012- 8:54 AM)_**

It was utter chaos in Mycroft's office that Christmas morning. It wasn't supposed to be, since it was Christmas, after all. But, that wasn't the case since Molly had caused so much trouble. Thankfully, he wasn't handling this alone. Anthea had been busy all morning with him, helping him to stabilize the situation. The press had gotten wind of the attempted heist and vandalism and they had descended on him like a pack of vultures. On top of all that, he had received news that five deadly chemical compounds were stolen from a secure location in Ingleton last night.

The chemical compounds were new forms of biochemical warfare, developed by MI6. They would attack the brain by depleting it of necessary chemicals, which would kill the victim quickly and effectively. Each compound would rapidly eliminate one of the five chemicals used by the brain, which were endorphins, serotonin, dopamine, norepinephrine, and acetylcholine. The media hadn't gotten its hands on that news yet, but there would be hell to pay as soon as they did. Mycroft was about 98% sure that Molly was doing this, but he didn't know what her plan was yet. This situation needed to be pacified quickly, before things spiraled out of control.

He texted a team at the MI6 base in London to go pick up his brother. Mycroft was in touch with MI6 because he and Sherlock had worked for them when they were growing up, since their mummy was the director there. She still was, even to this day. Violet Holmes had placed them both in the MI6, thinking that it would be a good opportunity for her boys to get in shape. Both of them had been successful field agents but neither seemed to enjoy the idea of putting themselves directly in the line of fire. Sherlock quit as soon as their mother saw that he hated working for the government. It seemed like a waste of time but it actually did something good for Mycroft. It helped him nab a "minor" career in the government through the use of his connections.

Plus, he had also met her while he was there. Anthea Jones wasn't a field agent, but she had worked with his mother as her personal assistant. She was about three years younger than him but that didn't really show since she was so careful (if not, vain) with her appearance. His mother had chosen her over 85 other assistants because she claimed that Anthea was witty (albeit, sarcastic at times) and she had the gift of always looking calm and collected, which something the others had lacked. Violet later transferred her to go to Mycroft, which was how she got to working for him.

Mycroft heard a soft knock on the door. Anthea stood there, with her Blackberry in her hand and a stack of papers in the other. "The car is ready, sir," she said.

"Let's go then," he replied. Mycroft picked up his suitcase and they walked out of the office and into the street. She was typing again and looked up at him once more.

"Sir, they've got Sherlock. He should be on his way to the building," Anthea said.

"Alright. There's no need to be so formal with me, Anthea," he chided gently. She simply shrugged and climbed into the car.

"It's just force of habit. You and I both know that," she said, giving him a slight smile. Anthea continued to text as they drove and Mycroft looked over his files with growing concern.

"What do you make of this situation, my dear?" Mycroft said. She looked up and glanced at his papers. Her brows furrowed and she frowned a little.

"It's daring, flashy, and incredibly stupid. That's all the key components in a Moriarty-esque crime," she said dryly. An idea suddenly hit her and Anthea hesitated a little before speaking once more. "Are you sure this isn't Jim's work? What if the woman at the party was just a front, to take the credit for his crime?"

"I know that it isn't him. If he were willing to start this game again, he wouldn't use a proxy at all. Jim Moriarty loves attention and he would do it all himself," he scoffed.

"That is true. But that woman in the CCTV footage looked quite familiar. Do you recognize her?" Anthea said thoughtfully.

"I wouldn't know," Mycroft replied, trying his best not to look amused. She caught his strange expression and frowned at him.

"You know something that no one else does," she said accusingly.

"What makes you say that, Anthea?"

"I can tell by that smirk you've got on your face. What exactly are you getting yourself into, Mycroft?" she said suspiciously.

"Nothing, my dear. It's better for me to know and for you to find out," he replied. There was a scowl on Anthea's face and the car suddenly pulled to a stop. They both got out and went through the main door of the MI6 headquarters. After passing through countless security scanners, they finally made it into the inner building and they headed to a room at the end of the hall.

Mycroft walked into the office and saw his mother sitting at the head of the table, with Sherlock sitting at her side. She was a stern looking woman with sharp blue-green eyes like her sons. Her graying ebony hair was pulled into a bun. To normal people, it would seem as if he were the little boy who was about to be scolded but that was absolutely incorrect. He was here only a friendly sort of visit. Violet Holmes might be fierce in terms of personality, for a woman of sixty-three, but she loved both of her sons dearly and hated to see them in a tough spot. Violet smiled and waved at them.

"Hello, Mycroft. Hello to you too, Anthea. Do come in," she said, beckoning for them to sit.

"I'll just wait outside, sir," Anthea said.

"My name is Mycroft, Anthea, not sir," he pointed out. She gave him a small smile and nodded before leaving the room.

"Remind me again, what am I here for?" Sherlock said loudly. Their mother let out a sigh and she smiled a little, despite the serious air in the room.

"You're just like your father, Sherlock. Impatient and straightforward," she said. She straightened in her chair and handed them a folder. "Boys, I'm sure you've heard all about the little incident at Buckingham Palace. We've got photographs of the woman, but our facial recognition software has been tampered with so we haven't been able to directly pinpoint her identity. She came as Elena Robinson, but that's obviously a fake name. Sherlock, she was dancing with you at the party. Did she say anything important?"

"She said she wanted to finish what Jim Moriarty started. They are most likely related, possibly brother and sister or simply just cousins," Sherlock said.

"Was there anything else?" She asked.

"She didn't say anything else of utter importance," he replied.

"Alright, then. Now, last night, five very important vials were stolen from our laboratory in Ingleton. We don't know who did it, but they were very careful in their work. Not a single footprint nor fingerprint was left behind. The security cameras were hacked and we couldn't see anything. Sherlock, the information for this is in the folder," she said. Violet looked at her younger son and watched as he inspected each paper carefully. His eyes were alight and he looked very interested in what he was reading.

"What is MI6 doing in the biochemical weaponry business?" he asked.

"You know what they say. It's better to be safe than sorry. Mycroft, dear, how are you doing with this situation? Have you found out anything interesting?" she said.

"Anthea and I are handling it, mother. And as for information, I have concluded that we're not dealing with any ordinary woman here. We are dealing with the head of the Moriarty Network," he said.

"Interesting. Female criminals are less common than their male counterparts and they usually need some motivation for committing their crimes. What drives her, I wonder?" Sherlock said aloud.

"I think it has to do with Jim's death. Anyway, no one actually knows what she looks like. This is the first time we've seen her in public. She merely goes by the title "Miss Moriarty". It's rumoured that she's fairly young, about Sherlock's age, and that she is quite pretty. It looks like the rumours are all true." Mycroft said carefully. He had revealed everything that they needed without endangering Molly's secret in the process.

Why did he still keep her secret, despite what she had done last night, one might ask? He had decided not to take action quite yet because he knew that if he told Sherlock who Miss Moriarty really was, then he could get dangerously emotionally involved in the case. See, Mycroft Holmes wasn't an idiot. He knew how his brother felt about Molly. Big brother Mycroft knew his little brother better than anyone.

He had seen right through Sherlock's careful façade. The moment Molly had left London, he had gotten considerably moodier. Every time someone brought up the name "**Molly Hooper**", he would get this look in his eyes and saunter off like a brooding teenager. Sometimes, John would tell him how Sherlock complained that St. Bart's was less fun and it was boring working with that new, idiotic replacement pathologist.

In short, he wanted her back.

It was ironic and somewhat sad, how he chose Irene with the intention of getting close to the Moriarty Network but he let go of the one person that was the closest to the network. In fairness, Molly did hide her secret quite well. Mycroft could tell that she didn't want any contact with her family, save for her brother. It was an interesting relationship, and he was dreadfully anxious to see how it would all turn out. His mother looked absolutely pleased and she gave him a smile.

"Excellent work, Mycroft! I'm not sure how you got that information, but it's good enough for me," Violet exclaimed.

"So, what are you planning to do about this woman?" Mycroft said.

"We really can't do much at this point, not until we find her true identity and arrest her. I think that our best option is to go along with it and see where we can go with this. Sherlock, she obviously wants to play the game with you, so you will be the one working on this case," Violet said. His eyes lit up and he had a curious gleam in his eyes, that contrasted greatly from his usually serious expression.

"A new case...it's been awhile since I've had something good. I'll handle it, mother," he said.

"Thank you, dear. Don't be afraid to have a little fun while you're at it. Anyway, that'll be all I have for you two today. I'll keep you two poste-" she began. Violet was abruptly interrupted when the door opened. Anthea stepped in and she had a grave expression on her face.

"Mycroft, Lestrade just texted me. A body's been found on the Thames. I think it would be best for both of you to take a look," she said.

"Tell him we're on our way. Let's go, Sherlock," Mycroft said. The two stood up and said goodbye to their mother before making their way out of the building. Sherlock texted John and told him to come along. He didn't enjoy working with Mycroft as much as he did with John.

They were driven to Mill Street near London Bridge and found numerous police cars parked in the narrow street. Sherlock and Mycroft walked through a gate and into the China Wharf. Lestrade stood in front of them, with a frown on his face. Standing next to him was John, who was carefully lifting the victim's arm in his gloved hands. They looked up as soon as they heard them approaching, looking utterly relieved while doing so.

"Ah, there you are. This body was found this morning by the security guard here. It's been dated and the person died at around 4-5 AM." He said. Sherlock immediately took charge and began inspecting the body.

The victim was a tall and well-built man with pale skin and brown hair. He was about 6 feet tall and he wore a faded plaid long-sleeve over a Grateful Dead tee. The man had scruffy sneakers and a pair of ripped jeans. His appearance was rather unkempt and there were no clear gunshot wounds on his body. It seemed like any regular body but the brothers could sense that it was anything but. Why? It was mainly because of how his occipital lobe was bent inwards and the knife wounds decorating his chest. The markings seemed to spell: **LI, L, X,** and **V.**

There was a big dot in between **LI** and the **L** and there were more on the stomach. Those spelled out **0, 0, LXXI, LII, 0,** and **IX**. There was yet another dot separating the first two zeroes and it was obviously roman numerals. Sherlock saw a slash in front of the first zero and he immediately whipped out his phone.

"What can you say about the victim?" Lestrade said.

"He's twenty years old and also unemployed. His appearance should speak for itself. By the way there are consistent callouses on the fingers of his right hand, you can tell that he is a guitarist. Probably for a band at a pub. You can still smell the alcohol lingering on his breath. There is a mark at the base of his neck, too small to notice but the area around it is still red. He was injected with something quite nasty, a poison. This is what we're looking for, isn't it?" Sherlock muttered.

"That is correct. All the evidence seems to point to that. I'll alert mother and tell her what we've found. In the meantime, I'll see what I can do about getting Miss M to talk to you," Mycroft said. Sherlock nodded at him and he left, walking towards the direction of the car. They moved aside to let the medical examiners take a crack at the case, but it was highly unlikely that they would find anything.

"Hang on a minute, what is that supposed to mean? Who the hell is Miss M? Do you know who did this?" Lestrade said. Sherlock looked annoyed and he gave Lestrade an irritated glance.

"Of course we do. It's not the victim that's important here. It's the murderer and how they killed this man. Like I said, he was injected with a poison. What have you got, John?" he said.

"Whatever this poison was, it acted quickly. His skull should not be bent like that. The only way that it can do that is if you deprived the brain of something," John said. Sherlock didn't say anything and instead, was typing away on his phone. He looked rather surprised and he put it back in his pocket.

"Would you look at that? The roman numerals on his chest aren't anything ordinary. When they are converted into regular numbers, they give the exact coordinates of where we're standing right now," he replied.

"This killer then, is toying with us. What kind of game are they trying to play?" Lestrade muttered.

"We're playing a game that could only be devised by one person," Sherlock said. Before Lestrade could ask who it was, one of the examiners came up to them and held up an envelope.

"Sir, we found this in his pocket," the man said. On the front of the envelope was Sherlock's name, written in elegant script. That helped him conclude that this really was the work of that woman. He watched as Lestrade opened the envelope and a phone fell out of it, along with an ornate ring. It was a white iPhone and it looked brand new.

Sherlock picked it up and turned it on. It had a grey background that said: **FOR SHERLOCK**. There was a loud click and he assumed that this had a lock that would only be opened through facial recognition. That absolutely nothing on it, save for the apps that came with it. It buzzed in his hand and a message popped up. The person texting him was merely labeled as M, nothing else.

_Good morning, Sherlock. I see you've found my first victim._

_-M_

He looked back at Lestrade and motioned for John to follow him. "I'm taking these," he said.

"What!? Sherlock, you can't take that. That's evidence!" Sherlock ignored Lestrade and opened up the message app and began to reply.

**_He's been deprived of endorphins. You've been playing MI6's vials, haven't you?_**

**_-SH_**

"It won't help you at all. It's for me anyway," Sherlock said. Lestrade was unable to argue and Sherlock walked off with John out of the wharf.

"Sherlock, what is this all about? You haven't told me anything!" John said as they got into a cab.

"A Moriarty is back, one who is ready to play this stupid game. This is the opening move," he said.

"Alright then, what are the full details?" John said. Sherlock scowled and simply looked annoyed.

"At the Christmas Ball, I danced with a woman. Did you see her?" He said slowly.

"Yeah, she was...well, she was beautiful. Who was she?"

"No one knows yet. However, as we were dancing, she said that she was here to finish the game he started," Sherlock replied.

"A female Moriarty? That's unusual. What else did she do?" John said.

"She is the reason why the Hope Diamond was nearly stolen. Now, last night, five vials containing experimental biochemical weapons were stolen. They deprive the brain of five necessary chemicals. The first vial was tested on this victim," he said. The phone in his hand buzzed once more and he looked at it. This time, a photo was attached to the message. It was a picture of a brick building with a black door and a white trim around it. There was a golden O on the front of the door.

_If you're so quick to deduce, find me now. You have 24 hours until I use the next vial._

_-M_

Sherlock looked carefully at the image and then pulled the ring out of his pocket. It was gilt and had the style of a class ring. There was an O on the ring, on that matched the O on the door. He took out his phone and looked up clubs in London starting with the letter O. He found one called the Orpheus, which was an exclusive gentlemen's club. Sherlock looked at the photos and made sure that this was the right place.

"Change of plans. Take us to the Orpheus Club on Sebbon Street, " Sherlock said.

"The Orpheus Club?" John echoed.

"This ring belongs to them. This picture is of their front door," he replied.

"There it is, then. That's where the second murder will be," John said.

"Wrong," he said. Sherlock tuned him out and continued to text Miss Moriarty.

**_You're at the Orpheus Club._**

**_-SH_**

_Excellent! That took you, what, five minutes? I like a man that can think ;)_

_-M_

**_Don't talk like that. You sound like my girlfriend._**

**_-SH_**

_And you care so much about her, don't you?_

_-M_

Sherlock put a pause to their conversation momentarily and thought of something else to say to her. Before he could reply, the phone buzzed and alerted him with another text.

_If Miss Adler cared about you as much as you did for her, she would tell you about her newest client._

_-M_

**_What are you talking about?_**

**_-SH_**

Shortly after he sent the text, he got a message. It was a photograph of a brown haired man with prominent features and a haughty looking face.

_Ask your little lady about her new friend. For now, head to the Orpheus Club. I have a little surprise waiting for you there._

_-M_

**_We're on our way. However, that can't be where your next victim is. Your clue was too obvious. It's way too easy._**

**_-SH_**

The driver pulled over to the side of the road and took their money. The two got out and made their way towards the front door of the Orpheus Club. The phone buzzed again and he opened it to see the message.

_Welcome to my world, Sherlock. Nothing is ever easy here._

_-M_

Sherlock smirked and walked through the door. This was certainly going to be interesting. It was a game of cat and mouse with this Moriarty. Which was the cat and which was the mouse?

They would have to see.

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So, that's all I've got for you! I probably won't update until Thursday because I really need to catch up on schoolwork. I'll probably get my tumblr account up and functioning by Sunday night or Monday afternoon. I have tons of shit to get done. Don't you just love teachers sometimes?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! As always, comments, ideas, and constructive criticism are welcome. Almost all the places I mentioned aim the chapter are **LEGIT**. Like, the coordinates for the murder on Mill Street are real. There was a lot of number crunching and pre-research that I did for this chapter. The only thing that isn't actually real is the Orpheus Club (made that up, sorry) but Sebbon street is real.

**Don't forget to check out my tumblr account when it's up! (it'll have Miss Moriarty extras!)**

-uniquename200


	7. Chapter 6: The Orpheus Club

Hi guys! So, I lied a little (I'm sorry) and I don't have my tumblr set up yet! My life is just so busy right now and I try hard to get the chapters posted. I haven't even decided what I should do once I get a tumblr. It's a little scary and I am (admittedly) a little overwhelmed.

But anyway, enough about me! I'm glad you guys left reviews and I hope you leave more! By the way, **SHERLOCK IS COMING BACK FOR A SEASON 3 & 4! **Holy shit, I am so psyched!

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock because..._**_**I'm poor. **_

Enjoy!

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Sherlock and John entered the quiet corridors of the Orpheus Club. There was light laughter in the bar area and there were men smoking large cigars amidst the rows of poker tables next to the window. Sherlock breathed in and a small smile lit up his face.

"Do you smell that, John? The scent of cigar smoke is such a lovely and intoxicating aroma," he said. John looked at him sternly and slapped away the hand that was reaching for a cigar.

"Nope. You can't smoke," John replied.

"Why not?" Sherlock said.

"Your brother said it was bad for you. Besides, we're on a case. You can't smoke now," he said. Sherlock nodded grudgingly and a tall blonde-haired man approached them.

"Hello, gentlemen. Did you need something?" he said.

"Yes, have you seen a woman around here?" John asked. The man laughed a little and shook his head.

"Sir, this is a gentlemen's club. Women aren't allowed here," he said.

"But was there a woman hanging around here at all?" John said.

"Well, if you really must know, there was a brown haired woman that came here last night. She left us this package for a Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Would that be..." he said.

"Yes, that's me. I need it," Sherlock replied. The man lead them to the back room and he picked up an envelope off the shelf. Sherlock's eyes narrowed when he saw the red seal on the envelope. Oh, this was definitely the work of a Moriarty.

He tore open the package and five photographs fell out. Three of them were quite compromising shots of Irene with the same man in the photograph that had been sent to him via text message. One of the photos was of a bright blue door and the other was of a birdcage with a person that looked like they were walking. The other was of a crown.

"We need to see Irene about this," John said. Sherlock wasn't listening to him and he had pulled out his phone and dialed Irene.

"What is it, Sherlock?" she said.

"Irene, I need to talk to you," he said.

"Alright, what's this about?" Irene demanded.

"Your newest clientele," Sherlock said shortly. He hung up and took the envelope with him. John and Sherlock made their way into another cab outside and he was silent the entire way back to Baker Street.

"For the love of God, say something! You've been quiet this whole time and it's unnerving. What, are you angry at Irene?" John said.

"Her client is the next victim. I need to ask her to find him," Sherlock said, completely ignoring his question.

"Ok...but does it bother you that she's still alive and well in the dominatrix business?" he replied. The car was speeding down the road and they were nearing Baker Street.

"Why would I care?" Sherlock said, looking unperturbed.

"Don't you care about her at all?" John said incredulously.

"You should know me well enough to know the truth," he replied. John sighed and shook his head.

"Honestly, Molly would have been a better match. It's a shame you chose Irene," John muttered. There was a steely glint in Sherlock's eyes and he struggled to get the words out of his mouth.

"Don't...say it," he said in a low voice.

"Say what?" John said, sounding puzzled.

"Her name," Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

"What? Why?" he said.

"Just...don't," Sherlock replied. John's eyes narrowed and he stared into the cold blue-green eyes of his best friend.

"There's something else going on here, isn't there? What's going on? Why did you choose Irene in the first place? Molly was obviously the one for you," John said. There was silence before Sherlock could answer him.

"I wanted to get rid of the Moriarty Network. That was near impossible since I couldn't find anyone affiliated with it. Irene seemed to have a lot of underground connections so I started dating her to get closer to destroying the Moriarty Network," he finally said. John stared at him in shock and he soon began to grow angry at what Sherlock did.

"Sherlock, you've known Molly for a long time. She's done so much for you because she loves you. Molly even helped you beat Jim! Couldn't you have at least said something to her before you dumped her for a dominatrix!?" John said.

"John-"

"You've driven her away because she couldn't deal with seeing you and Irene every single damn day! How do you think it made her feel, having her heart broken and then being forced to leave London because of you? You haven't even gotten close to destroying the Moriarty Networ-"

"I know what I did!" Sherlock snapped. John stopped talking immediately and Sherlock let out a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, looking stressed.

"It's true that I haven't really gotten far in destroying the network. It's also true that should have said something to her but I didn't because I forgot to account her feelings in my decision. I don't love Irene and I never have. It was a mistake to even start dating her in the first place and it was a mistake to let her go away," Sherlock said. John suddenly got a look of realization on his face and he let out a groan.

"Oh my god. You're in love with Molly, aren't you?" John said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said blankly. He didn't really object but John knew that he was definitely right.

"If love her then why did you let her leave you?"

"She...has enough patience to deal with me and she's much too kind but I'm just sarcastic and rude. I don't deserve someone as good as her, John. Maybe it was good for her to leave," he said quietly.

"That's not true. She balances you out. You two are great for each other. It's easy to see that you miss her," John said.

"I don't know where she is and it's too late to do anything now. The damage has been done," Sherlock said with a note of finality in his voice. He asked the cab to stop and Sherlock looked at John.

"Take another cab and go home, John. I need to think," he said. John understood that he needed to think about his feelings and got out.

He continued the rest of the ride home in silence. Sherlock had finally realized his feelings for her when it had been too late. Molly was patient and kind and he felt that it wasn't fair for her to love a person as cold and emotionally disconnected as him. When she had left, his life felt considerably emptier. He was barely able to stand Irene (really, it was a miracle that he had put up with her for this long) and Sherlock had wanted to see Molly so badly. However, he was unable to because he had no idea where she had gone. That was when he realized that he was in love with her. It was new for him to ever truly love someone and it was strange to venture into unexplored territory.

The cab stopped suddenly and Sherlock got out. Irene was waiting for him at the front door. Her wet hair hung loosely over one shoulder and she was in a plain black shirt and a pair of jeans. She saw them and was unable to hide her irritated expression.

"What is it? I barely got enough time to get out of the shower and-" Irene began.

"Moriarty is back in London," Sherlock said, cutting her off. They had gone up to the living room and she stared at him in shock.

"That's impossible, he was-"

"Wrong. It's a female, the woman I danced with. She calls herself Miss M and this morning, she killed a man to start the game. Her next victim is this man," he said as he handed her the photos and the ring. She took a good look at him and her eyes widened.

"Where did you get these? Have you been following me?" she said.

"This envelope was left for us at the Orpheus Club on Sebbon Street," he replied, "Now, who is this man?"

"This is Gustave Michaels, my client. He is a French businessman who works for the Thyssen-Krupp company's branch in Paris. I remember seeing this ring on his finger. I saw him yesterday and I suppose he quite liked me since he put his phone number in my contacts," she said, holding up her phone. Sherlock plucked it out of her fingers and opened up her contacts list. He called the number but no one was answering.

"The number you have dialed is currently blocked by your service provider-" a voice said. Sherlock hung up and looked back at Irene.

"It's blocked," he said.

"It can't be. I was able to call it yesterday," she said. Irene tried it herself but he could not be reached. "Just try again tomorrow. Maybe he'll pick up."

Sherlock pulled out his own phone and called his brother. "Mycroft, we have the next victim but we can't reach him. Can you trace his last call?" he said.

"I need his number," Mycroft said. He gave it to him and Mycroft answered back in a few minutes.

"That's strange. We can't trace it. The last cell activity was a call to Miss Adler. After that, it's blank. Our IT guys say it's been bounced to an asymmetrical signal so it's being bounced around to thousands of cell towers around the world," Mycroft replied.

"That means Miss Moriarty has already gotten to him," Sherlock said.

"Well, she's careful. I'll give her that much. Just wait until tomorrow. He's already been taken by her and he's going to die anyway," he said.

"I hate playing into people's hands, but I suppose that's the best option," Sherlock replied.

"Alright. We're working on finding Miss Moriarty. I'll arrange for her to meet with you soon," Mycroft said. He hung up before Sherlock could ask him how he could arrange a meeting with their enemy.

Could he possibly have known who Miss Moriarty was before this even happened? Well, it would explain how he got so much information on her that even their mother was unable to obtain. Sherlock pushed away his suspicions for now and continued to do what he could. He phoned Lestrade and literally forced him to make sure that Gustave Michaels had not left the country. By the time evening had come, Sherlock had nearly forgotten all about the photos and was attempting to fight off Irene's sexual advances.

Sherlock hadn't had sex with Irene in the fourteen months that they had been dating. He had been able to fend her off for now but his excuses were getting a bit outlandish. She had simply dismissed his behaviour as normal but she was getting a little antsy, in a sense.

That evening, Sherlock was not able to sleep. He was thinking about all the time that he was wasting by waiting, but he didn't have a choice. He wasn't calling the shots this time. Miss Moriarty was, and he didn't like that at all. He was used to being in charge. Sherlock paced around the house and played his violin loudly, which caused some irritation from Irene and Mrs. Hudson. During his period of insomnia, he composed a song and finally fell asleep sitting in his chair and thoughts of the murders circulated in his brain.

He woke up suddenly to the sound of the Beegee's Staying Alive ringing in his ears. What a fitting ringtone! Sherlock grabbed the iPhone off the table and opened it up. There was another message from Miss Moriarty. It said:

_Good morning, Sherlock. Did you see my photographs?_

_-M_

He sat up and took the envelope containing the photos out of the drawer. The papers fell out and the set the ones of Irene on the table. He was left with photos of a bright blue door and the other was of the birdcage and the crown. Sherlock ignored the door picture and looked at the birdcage picture.

The birdcage and the crown. Why was it so significant? Sherlock sat there and thought of what it could mean. It would lead them to the second murder, but how? The photograph was of an ordinary crown taken off of the Internet and the birdcage was too, which didn't help him at all. That meant that they weren't individual objects, waiting to be found. It might possibly be a code name for someone, but that was rather unlikely. Honestly, who would be code named birdcage? That was just lame. He needed to find the solution, and fast. There was only a half hour left before the next murder.

As he was thinking to himself, Irene had come out of the bathroom and was sitting at the breakfast table. She munched on a piece of toast and watched him. Irene could tell that he was in a mood and knew it was better not to bother him. She pulled out her phone and turned it on, just to pass time. Irene saw a new voicemail and her heart nearly stopped when she saw who it was from. She checked the clock and noticed that they had very little time left.

On the other hand, ideas were hitting Sherlock and he seemed to be onto something. A birdcage with a person walking and a crown had no relation to each other. Unless...

They were hints to something bigger.

Birdcage...birdcage walk? Those words struck a chord with him and he knew he had found the answer.

Sherlock immediately flew out of his chair and went to the map on the wall. Irene was saying something to him but he was tuning her out. He scanned the map of London and looked at every inch of it until he found what he was looking for. The birdcage with the man was there to signify Birdcage Walk, near Buckingham Palace. The second picture was there to signify Old Queen Street, which was near Birdcage Walk. Sherlock looked it up on his laptop with Google Maps and used street view to look at Old Queen Street. He moused around and found the house with the blue door. Sherlock held up his photograph and compared the two images. This was correct. He had found the next murder site.

"-herlock! Are you listening to me at all?" Irene said. Her voice brought him out of his thought and he looked up at her.

"What?" he said. She let out an annoyed sigh and beckoned for him to come over. Irene pressed the send button on her phone and she handed it to him.

"Gustave left me a message. You might want to hear it," she said. Sherlock took her phone and held it to his ear.

_"Irene? L-listen, I need to see you. Meet me at 17th Old Queen Street in 15 minutes," _he said. There was a pause and he whispered something quickly. _"Please help me."_ There was an audible smack and he let out a yell of pain.

The message ended there and Sherlock stood up. Everything was in order now. All he would have to do was follow Irene and see if he could find Gustave and prevent the murder.

"He's the next victim. We need to go find him," Sherlock said. He put on his coat and Irene followed after him. They got into a cab and headed to Old Queen Street. The phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to look at the message.

_You should act quickly, Sherlock. I'm almost ready for the second murder!_

_-M_

Sherlock decided not to reply, so as not to give anything away. He had devised a plan with Irene, where she would run out to greet Gustave and he would walk behind her like a civilian to make sure Gustave didn't die. In short, he was looking for snipers. Hopefully, that sniper would be Miss Moriarty herself.

When they stopped at the corner of Old Queen Street and Storey's Gate, Irene stepped out of the cab and he stepped behind her a little ways, making himself look like a civilian. Sherlock inspected the buildings above him and heard Gustave saying something quite loudly.

"She made me do it!" he yelled.

"Who did?" Irene replied. There were tears in his eyes and he raised his hands above his head.

"She did this to me," he said. Sherlock watched Gustave rip open his shirt to show them ugly, handmade scars. They were fresh and his flesh was still pink and raw. He noticed that they were almost exactly like the ones from the murder on Mill Street, except that there were different number values.

"Calm down, Gustave. We can get you out of this," Irene said soothingly.

His hands were shaking and he let out a shaky laugh. "Miss Moriarty is coming," Gustave said. At this moment, Sherlock knew that something big was going to happen. He tried to tackle Gustave but it was too late. A shot had been fired and immediately, he went down.

Gustave made a strangled choking noise before convulsing violently on the sidewalk. He let out a scream and Sherlock watched as he clutched at his head. He ran over to him and inspected the bullet, which was actually a modified tranquilizer dart. Usually, bullets burned the skin at impact. He knew that this shot was far, about 107 yards since the hole wasn't as small and as neat as it usually was from such a close distance. From there, he used his mental calculations of the air pressure, velocity, wind speed, and the dart's angle of entry to calculate where the killer was. He wasn't a ballistics specialist, but he knew enough from his training with MI6. There was a crosswind and he followed the direction of the wind to calculate the flight path of the dart and went off to pursue whoever had fired it.

He ran into a building next to a restaurant called Pickles. He went through several hallways and headed upstairs. Sherlock went straight to the top and busted down the door to the roof. He caught sight of a woman disassembling a gun and he pulled a pistol out of his suit jacket.

"We meet again, Miss Moriarty," he said. She looked up and gave him a sly smile.

"So that's what I'm being called now. Mycroft probably told you that. What else has he told you?" she said.

"He's told me everything I need to know," Sherlock replied.

"Even my identity?"

"No, but I'm sure that he knows who you are," he said. He watched her nod and she shrugged a little.

"He knows that, but you shouldn't. Not yet, at least. It's too early in our little game for you to know," she said.

"Tell me, why are you doing this? If it's because we killed Ji-" he began. Sherlock was interrupted when she held up a hand to stop him.

"To them, all of this is about that. But to me, I do this because I have to," she said softly.

"So you're being forced to do this," he said. Miss Moriarty ignored him and she slung her backpack over her shoulder.

"Now, if you excuse me, I really must be going," she said. She took off without warning and jumped to the other building, since the complexes were so close together. He chased after her and they ran down the stairs and went out the door. Sherlock noticed that she was heading to the Big Ben and they were going towards Westminster Station. He was going to lose her there! Sherlock ran faster and made sure that he was at least in good distance with her.

She turned and flung herself in the crowds of people going into Westminster Station. Molly scanned her pass and pushed past businessmen, tourists, and numerous schoolchildren. She looked back quickly and saw Sherlock still hot on her trail. Molly took a sudden turn and got on whatever train was leaving the quickest. The doors behind her and she squeezed herself in between two tall men. She glanced through them and saw Sherlock looking around. He could not see her but he probably knew which train she was on. It didn't matter, to her. Things were getting interesting and she hoped that he would understand the clues she had left behind.

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**OH SHIT, MAN TO MAN TALK IN THE CAB**. But anyway, that's it for now! I'll try hard and get my tumblr set up but I don't know exactly when I will. I hope you liked this chapter and I think chapter 7 will be here by Monday! I've been coming home late from softball practice lately so that gives me less time to write. But I do try hard to post! Ah, the things I do for this fanfic...

Remember: Comments, ideas, reviews, and theories are all welcome!

-uniquename200


	8. Chapter 7: Capture the Queen

Hello everyone! Here is our next chapter of _**Miss Moriarty**_! I was actually really excited to post this because it was so fun to write. By the way, I will get my tumblr account set up soon (by Friday, **I PROMISE**) and I hope you go check it out! By the way, thanks for all your fantastic reviews! I want to give a special thank you to **Dani c **because of what she said. It makes me incredibly happy to get a review like that. Seriously, I was uncontrollably excited!

By the way I posted this today because** SHERLOCK STARTS FILMING TODAY! **I am so excited! Anyway, that's all I have to say for now. Enjoy your reading!

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. If I did, I wouldn't force you to wait so damn long for a new episode. _**

* * *

After Sherlock had lost Miss Moriarty, he had made his way out of the station and back into the streets of London. He went to the crime scene and he wasn't surprised to see the police there already. Irene was talking with Lestrade and they both looked up as he approached.

"You're back. Where did you go?" Irene asked.

"I found the sniper. We went down to Westminster Station but I lost the trail there. It's not worth it to chase them," he said.

"Where did they shoot from?" Lestrade said.

"From up there," Sherlock said, pointing at the roof. He sent someone up there to check it out, to look for prints or any other forms of DNA. Sherlock went with him and inspected the scene from there.

"Someone made a shot 107 meters away, in a crosswind, no less. Whoever it is, they're good at what they do and they don't lack conviction either," Lestrade muttered, "Who exactly are we dealing with?"

"We are dealing with Jim Moriarty's sister. Didn't Mycroft fill you in?" Sherlock said, while he poked around the scene with his magnifying glass.

"He hasn't told me anything," he replied.

"Ask him about it then. I really do hate repeating myself," Sherlock said. He looked around for any traces of DNA but she hadn't left anything. There were no hairs, fingerprints, or footprints anywhere. If there was a hair or something, it would have been blown away by the wind by now. He followed the direction of the breeze but by his calculations, it would've floated past a ledge already. After putting the numbers on Gustave's body on his phone, he went back to the house with Irene.

While they were at the house, he noticed that Irene was behaving quite oddly. She was on the phone and she seemed to be having a quiet conversation with someone. Irene left the room and sat in the bedroom, with her phone in her hand.

"Something big has happened and we need to talk," she whispered.

"_What kind of big are we talking about?"_

"A Moriarty has resurfaced and is playing the game with Sherlock," she said.

_"I knew about that from the start. By the way, why are you even dating him? I thought you loved me,"_ the voice said petulantly.

"I do, dear, and I'm not even sure that I even felt anything for him in the first place. I want to be with you. He really should be with Miss Hooper, but I drove her away to god knows where..." Irene muttered.

_"Molly? With him? Well, it does work quite well but I don't appreciate it very much. You do realize that he's using you this whole time, right?"_ the voice said. There was a pause and Irene sat there, processing these words.

"I...wait, what?" she said. There was a soft laugh from the other end and she couldn't believe how stupid she was.

_"Silly girl. You haven't heard? I followed them yesterday. He says that he wanted to get close to the Moriarty Network by using your connections. Trust me, that's true. And FYI, sweetheart, he's been in love with Molly from the start."_

"You can't be serious. He's cold and cruel, but not that cruel!" she cried. Irene felt despair in her heart and she couldn't believe that he had duped her for so long. He had fooled her for fourteen months! That explained why he was so cold around her and why he wouldn't have sex with her. Anger flared in her heart and Irene stood up.

_"Are you angry?"_

"Of course I'm angry! I've been used! Look, I'm going to see you and we can take down this new Moriarty girl ourselves. Her little game is just mocking us. It's insulting," Irene said.

_"You'll be surprised to see who she is. I know you will be," _the voice said.

"Wait, do you know who Miss Moriarty is?" she said.

_"Of course I know. I just won't tell you because I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate that. Besides, I'm curious to see how all this unfolds. Anyway, I'll see you soon. Love you, Irene. Go punch that arrogant bastard for me,"_ the voice replied.

"Alright, I love you too. See you soon," she said, letting out a sigh. Irene hung up and she grabbed her bag from under the bed. She threw all of her clothes and personal belongings and went out of the room. She threw open the door and glared coldly at Sherlock. He raised an eyebrow and she stormed up to him. Irene slapped him squarely in the face and she glared at him.

"You've been using me," she said accusingly.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I know that you've been using me just to get closer to the Moriarty Network. I should've expected it, since it's you we're talking about," Irene said, letting out a bitter laugh. Sherlock didn't object but he sat there in silence.

"How did you know?" he said quietly.

"Someone helped me see what was really going on. You never loved me at all. You've always been in love with Molly Hooper, haven't you? Too bad you let her go," she sneered.

"Don't bring her into this," Sherlock said in a deadly tone. He stood in front of her and glared down at her.

"When I leave, you won't have anyone else. Molly's gone and I will be too. You'll be alone and I'll be happy with someone else. You are cruel and eccentric, not to mention a lying, arrogant bastard. I hope you fucking die alone," she hissed. Irene stormed out of 221B and not surprisingly, he didn't care. Sherlock merely shrugged it off and continued to work on poring over England's birth certificates for another Moriarty.

Meanwhile, Irene had hopped into a taxi and was heading off to her old apartment. She was hurt but she knew that she didn't need Sherlock. All she needed was her other man.

_**(One week later...)**_

The killings were really taking off now. It had been about a week since the murder of Gustave Michaels and the media was taking an avid interest in the case. They had dubbed the case with a ridiculous name, such as the "_Murder By Numbers_".

Sherlock hadn't heard anything from Irene and he had thrown away all the other things that she had left in his house. That morning, he sat at his chair in the living room in his cozy bathrobe and was texting John. He was examining the brains of Miss Moriarty's victims and was trying to find a way to combat the virus. Sherlock had also told him about his breakup with Irene and both men had agreed that it was for the better. His phone buzzed without warning and Sherlock noticed that it was a text from Mycroft. What did he want now?

**_Meet me at the tunnels near St. Bart's at noon._**

**_-MH_**

He glanced at the clock and stood up to work on finding out Miss Moriarty's real name. It was eleven, so he had about an hour before his meeting with his brother. Sherlock couldn't help but wonder what this was all about. Maybe he had found something.

Well, it was bound to be interesting, so why not?

_**(Meanwhile, with Molly...)**_

Molly sat at her vanity, brushing her hair. Today, it was one of those rare days where she could just be by herself. She was going for lunch at the Romani Café, an eatery near Thornhill Square Gardens. After that, she would go shopping. She looked in the mirror, carefully inspecting her appearance. Today, she had her hair in loose waves and she wore a fitting, black dress that went a little bit past her knees. It had a scoop neckline and 3/4 sleeves. She paired it with black patent leather high heels. Molly took her purse and a book with her and headed out to go enjoy her day.

She walked out of the house and went towards the main street. Molly hopped into a cab and was driven to the café. After paying the driver the sufficient amount of pounds, she was led to a table in front of the cafe. She ordered lunch, which was a cup of coffee and a sandwich. It was a lovely, sunny day and she took out the book she had packed.

The Perks Of Being A Wallflower was a fantastic novel by Stephen Chbosky. It was probably one of her most favorite books in the world and she always had time to read it. It reminded her of how easy it was to blend in the background, an art that she excelled in. She sat there, reading quietly and basking in the sunshine. Molly felt like absolutely no one could bother her today. It was nice out and she was alone, without any thoughts of the the Moriarty Network or the game circulating around her brain.

Molly didn't hear the car pulling up behind her, however. She never heard the footsteps as they approached begin her. All she felt was the rag being pressed to her nose and world faded into a sickly sweet scented darkness.

When she awoke, she opened her eyes slowly and found herself tied to a chair. She felt that her wrists had been bound with rope and that she had no shoes. She looked around and saw two guards at the side of her, pointing guns to her head. Molly let out a groan and looked down. How had she managed to get herself kidnapped? She looked around for her main kidnapper and began to recognize where she was. Molly had seen the graffiti on the walls somewhere before. She sat there, trying to remember where she had seen it. After a few minutes or so, she realized that they were in the tunnels near St. Bart's. There was a little roundabout near Smithfield Market and this was always just a parking spot. Molly remembered this because she passed it every day on her way to work.

"How are you feeling, Miss Moriarty?" a voice said. She looked up and instantly recognized the man by his suit and umbrella.

"It's rude to kidnap a lady, Mycroft. Didn't your mummy teach you any manners?" she said loudly.

"She taught me that it's perfectly acceptable to capture a criminal, regardless of gender," he said casually.

"So I'm a criminal now. Is that what you've decided to call me?" Molly said.

"You did kill two men. I assume you're going for more. You like causing trouble because it's fun. I think it's safe to say you define the word **_criminal_**," Mycroft said.

"I don't cause trouble for fun. I do it out of necessity. At least I'm not a psychopathic murderess," she scoffed.

"Wrong. Psychopaths don't function as well as you do. It's merely high functioning sociopathy," a voice said. Molly saw a figure approaching and saw that it was Sherlock. He stepped out from behind a pillar and she gave him an icy smile.

"Ah, how lovely of you to join us, Sherlock! What brings you here?" she asked. He ignored her for now and asked a question of his own.

"You told me something when I last saw you. Are you being forced to do this?" he said.

"Getting straight to business, aren't we? I said what I meant and I meant what I said. A Moriarty is truthful 100%. Everything I do is about Jim's death," she said, quoting a famous children's book for no particular reason.

"Who's forcing you to do this?" He replied.

"It's a complicated matter. Takes too much time to explain, if you ask me," Molly said carefully.

"We have time. You're not going anywhere anyway," Sherlock said.

"You know, I was supposed to have a relaxing day off today. Thanks for ruining it," she muttered. Molly was trying to stall them to figure out what to say.

"Just get on with it. Are you angry about Jim's death too?" he said, looking unfazed.

"His death happened and there's nothing I can do about that. I was able to accept that and I moved on. Other people couldn't. Anyway, my family offered me this position a few months after my brother died. The offer was too...well, unrefusable, so I took it," Molly said.

"Unrefusable? What do you mean?"

"You see, we live in two very different worlds, Sherlock. In mine, if you disobey you're better off dead. Tell me, is it like that in yours?" she said.

"Hm. So you were forced into taking this position. You shouldn't let them take advantage of you," he said.

"Why do you care? You don't care about anyone," she said coldly. At this moment, Mycroft knew that things were going to get awkward so he kept silent and watched to see what she would say to him. Her lips curved into a cruel smile and before she knew it, her thoughts turned into harsh words and she said what was on her mind. "Still dating that whore of yours? I was surprised to see you actually caring about a woman like her."

"I broke up with her," he said matter-of-factly.

"Let me guess. Did you lose interest in her too?" Molly sneered. He didn't answer and she continued to ridicule him. "That's what happens to all the people you meet. You toss them away when you lose interest in them or if they've outlived their purpose, don't you?"

"Stop this. You know nothing about me," he said sharply.

"Oh, I know a lot more than you would think. I know that you do that to people because I've experienced that already. From you, no less," Molly said. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes and she knew that she had said a little more than she had meant to.

"Excuse me?" Sherlock said. She ignored him and wiggled her wrists. Molly tried to slip out of them but they were bound.

"Look, is it really necessary for me to be tied up like this? It's a tad bit barbaric," she complained. Molly was beginning to make an escape plan and it would start by distracting them. She looked dainty and fragile but she was dangerous nonetheless. Molly wasn't afraid to use that to her advantage.

"It is absolutely necessary. We can't have you escaping. So tell me," Mycroft said. "Do you know where we are?"

"Moll-damn it, I mean, Miss Moriarty, what did you mean by that?" Sherlock said suddenly, interrupting Mycroft. It was an odd little slip of the tongue that neither Sherlock nor Molly could ignore. She raised an eyebrow but nonetheless, Molly ignored him and answered Mycroft instead. That left Sherlock to wonder, _"Damn it, why did I almost say Molly?"_

"Of course I know where we are. We're near St. Bartholomew's Hospital. We went in the passage below that leads to the tunnels. How fitting for us to be so close to that hospital. I'll put you in there when I'm done," she said, giving him a cold smirk.

"Done? What will you do now?"

"First of all, I would like to make one last phone call, if that's alright with you," She said casually. Molly gave him a look and Mycroft let out a sigh. He put her phone in her hands and she quickly typed in a pass code.

"Go to the S section in my contacts. Press the first name on that list, please," Molly said. It was labeled simply as S and he raised an eyebrow. He pressed it, along with the speaker button. Mycroft held it in front of her and she looked displeased but began to speak.

"_Hello?"_

"Sebby, dear, I need a little favor from you," she said.

_"What would that be?"_ he said.

"I'm in a bit of a situation. I've been kidnapped by the Holmes brothers. Give me a ride, will you?" Molly replied.

_"That is a problem. Well, Karl has traced your call and we have your location. I should be there in a little bit. Can you get out on your own?" _Sebastian replied. Molly rolled her eyes and frowned.

"Of course I can. You know I'm better than that. By the way, will you bring me something to snack on? They stole me away while I was having lunch and I am starving," Molly said. From behind Mycroft, Sherlock raised an eyebrow at this sudden change of topic. Molly wasn't trying to distract them or anything. She really was just hungry.

_"You've been kidnapped and you're asking me for food? I'm glad to see where your priorities lay, you fat ass_," Sebastian said, with a snort.

"Don't make jabs at my weight! I work hard to look this sexy. Just bring me some food and come pick me up. I'll see you soon," she said. Molly motioned for him to hang up and Mycroft pressed the end call button.

"I'm being watched, aren't I?" Molly said, motioning towards the camera in the corner of the pillar.

"I'm presenting footage of your little performance today to Scotland Yard. They can decide what to do from there," Mycroft replied.

"Well, I've got to go out with a bang, don't I?" She said, giving him a dazzling grin. He had a somewhat confused look on his face.

"Pardo-" He began. Molly quickly kicked him in the stomach and stood up. Mycroft got back up and Sherlock approached her but she whirled around and knocked them down. The two other guards hastily got to work and she spun around again, knocking them all down with the legs of her chair. Molly jumped and body slammed one of the guards with her chair, which caused it to break. It was also an effective way to knock him out. She slipped out of the ropes and engaged in combat with the other man, while using only her legs. Molly aimed a kick at his head and the man tried to grab her leg. She flipped back forcefully, causing him to let go. By then she had untied the knot around her wrists and was completely free. Molly punched him in the solar plexus and kicked him once more in the neck. He let out a yell and she wrapped her legs around his neck, locking him into a headlock. She flipped back once more and he hit the ground, his head hitting the ground roughly.

Molly dusted herself off and plucked her phone out of Mycroft's hand. She took her purse that was sitting in the corner and she put her shoes back on. Molly waved to the camera one last time before making her way out of the tunnels. She heard the sound of a car roaring down the street and she assumed that it was Sebastian. Molly sprinted towards the exit until she saw the entrance to the Smithfield Market in front of her. A black Mercedes was waiting for her and she hopped into the shotgun seat.

Sebastian sat at the driver's seat and he didn't look pleased at all. Not in the slightest. He looked at Molly before tossing a deli sandwich at her.

"Molly, how could you be so stupid? How did they capture you?" he demanded.

"I was just being careless, nothing more. Besides, I want to take my next victim," Molly said.

"Who is it this time? A politician? A CEO?" he said.

"I want you to assassinate Kitty Riley. She's proving to be a problem so she might as well be the next one anyway. It's an effective way to get rid of her. Her flat is on 61 Lofting Road," she replied.

"I haven't heard anything from her since the Jim incident. What is she doing now?"

"She found some of Jim's things at her house from when he was staying there. Kitty found a paper in one of the pockets with my number and Jim put the words _**sister dearest**_ on it. Now, she hasn't stopped bugging me for information concerning the Moriarty family. She wants to know who we are and what exactly Jim did," Molly said.

"That is troublesome. When do you want this done?" Sebastian said.

"You can drop me off at my flat and I'll give you the next vial. I want this done by tonight," she replied. "Don't forget about the numbers either."

"Alright, boss," he said, giving her a mock salute. He dropped her off at home and she gave him another dart filled with the next virus and a paper with the coordinates.

Later that evening, Sherlock was sitting at home, thinking about Miss Moriarty. He was having suspicions regarding her identity but his ideas seemed outlandish and silly. It couldn't be her. But all the clues were there and they seemed to fit. His emotions, however, were getting in the way. It couldn't be Molly. His head was filled with all sorts of confusing thoughts and a shrill ring broke the silence. Sherlock's phone rang and it was a call from Lestrade. He picked it up, unaware that it would be news that he didn't want to hear.

"What?" he said.

_"We've got another victim."_

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Well, we have a breakup from Irene and she's got that new man of hers. We also have suspicions from Sherlock and some good old fashioned Sherlock and Molly tension! Things got super touchy there super quickly. And did I mention that Kitty Riley is next? That bitch is gonna get her ass killed :)

What do you think will happen next? Was it interesting? I hope you liked the chapter and don't forget to review! I should be able to post again on Friday because I have absolutely nothing for chapter eight yet. Oh well, c'est la vie!

-uniquename200


	9. Chapter 8: Death of A Kitty

I can't believe it. **WE REACHED 100, GUYS! **I saw the 100th review and I almost had a heart attack. Do you realize how big that is? THANK YOU SO MUCH! I love every single one of you and I couldn't have gotten this far without your support.

But anyway, here is the new chapter! I got this done when I said I would, despite the fact that it's almost midnight. **My tumblr account is also up now (under the name of uniquename200) and I've got a pretty cool extra for this story posted already. I'm working on a video project for Miss Moriarty and that might take some time but I think it'll be good! Come and follow my page!**

Enjoy your reading!

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Sherlock didn't waste any time after Lestrade called. He hopped into a cab and went straight to 61 Lofting Road. It was another murder from Miss Moriarty and this time, the victim was someone he knew.

Kitty Riley had been found dead in her apartment about four hours after her death by her boyfriend. They were supposed to go on a date that night but all he had found was a dead girlfriend and an odd little crime scene. It was obvious that someone had broken into her home and that she at least tried to fight back. The blood had been cleaned up now but she still had the markings on her back. There were red rose petals that decorated her body that the killer had left behind.

Sherlock had arrived at the scene and found Anderson and Donovan inspecting the body. Lestrade looked up and he looked instantly relieved.

"Good, you're here. Take a look at her, Sherlock," he said. Sherlock crouched down and inspected the corpse carefully. He couldn't focus because he could feel Anderson and Donovan starting at him.

"Sir, we've already done all we can with the body," Anderson said. "What else could Sherlock be looking for? It looks straightforward-"

"Shut up, Anderson. No one asked for your opinion. By the way, I want you turn around. Your face puts me off," Sherlock said as he looked at the marks on Kitty's back. Anderson made a sound of protest but Lestrade gave him a look that told him to do it anyway. Donovan just shook her head and the two watched him work.

Sherlock was looking at the body and he tried to see if there was anything that could lead him to the second murder. He listed down the numbers on his phone and wondered why Miss Moriarty was listing down the coordinates of each murder. It was obviously leading into something bigger, which meant that he would be forced to wait until the fourth and fifth victims were killed before its true meaning would be revealed.

However, he noticed that the murder was less careful than the first. The first man had all the blood drained from his body. Gustave's was messier only because she was shooting from afar. Kitty's murder was not as clean and the markings were of a different style. If Miss Moriarty had little time to make her carvings on the body, Kitty's body would have been found sooner without blood. The marks were messier but the knife the killer was using left smooth tracks, as opposed to the fact that if it had been hurried, the area around the skin would be jagged. That told him that this was someone else's work. A hired assassin, maybe?

That was certainly possible.

He opened up his photos and looked at the images from Gustave's body. The knife markings were the same style as the first, which meant that those ones were definitely hers. It seemed that she had a careful and practiced touch around the corpses, like a surgeon or a path-

No.

He didn't want to think about that right now. Sherlock still couldn't admit the fact that Molly was a suspect. The clues seemed to point to it, but his heart was too stubborn to let him believe that it could be her. It frustrated him because he knew that his emotions would bias him and it would get in the way of his investigation. That was why he tried to keep himself as emotionally detached as possible. Love always got in the way of his plans. He absolutely refused to be a lovesick idiot.

Especially over someone like her.

He had let her go willingly. Sherlock had felt like an idiot because he knew it was his fault. All of the trouble had come from the fact that he had chosen Irene without telling Molly or anyone else of his true intentions. Sherlock had messed up, but he was never going to admit that out loud.

"This is another murder from the same killer, isn't it?" Lestrade said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes. Did you get a disk or anything from Mycroft earlier this afternoon?" Sherlock said.

"Yeah, but we haven't seen it yet," he said.

"There's nothing here that can lead us to the next murder, so you need to see it," Sherlock muttered. Lestrade followed him outside and they headed back to the station. They went to his office and Lestrade picked up the package on his desk. He put the disk inside his computer and started up the video.

Lestrade watched the whole thing before pressing the stop button. He looked troubled and he turned to face Sherlock. "I can't believe that we're dealing with another Moriarty. I thought this business was over with," he said.

"It's not. I have one suspect in mind but it doesn't seem like the type of thing she would do," Sherlock muttered. He stood up and pulled up the video on the screen again.

"And that would be?" Lestrade said. Sherlock ignored him and pointed at the woman.

"Look for her. Tear up London if you have to. We need to find her and stop her before she does anything else," he said. Sherlock started to make his way out of the office but Lestrade stopped him.

"Wait! Who was your suspect?" Lestrade said. Sherlock looked at him carefully and wondered for a moment what he should say.

"Molly Hooper," he said as he left. Sherlock quickly left the Scotland Yard building and got on a cab. All he would have to do was wait for the next killing. It could be today, tomorrow, or next week. He still thought that it could be Molly but he was unsure of his thoughts.

He didn't like that at all.

**_(The next morning...)_**

Sherlock sat at his chair, drinking a cup of coffee. He was watching the news, which was about M's murders. However, it didn't feature anything about Scotland Yard hunting her down. They were keeping that a secret, hoping that the element of surprise would work in their favor. Lestrade had almost all of Scotland Yard looking for Miss Moriarty. They were tearing London apart, piece by piece. He was sure that they would find her eventually, but he could not be sure of when.

In the meantime, he would visit John at St. Bart's. Sherlock knew that he was trying to find a solution to the diseases the victims had died of. He put on some clothes and went to the hospital.

Meanwhile, John was down in the laboratory, looking at some samples. The current pathologist, Matthew, was out for the day and he was left with the bodies of Miss Moriatty's victims. Honestly, this entire matter was ridiculous. He couldn't find a cure. John was drawing a blank and he thought the answer lay in antibodies, but nothing was working. He was out of his element here. John's talents lay in general practice but this was chemical engineering. John had briefly flirted with this topic in college and he was pretty good but he wasn't good enough to figure out a cure for a disease like this. Oh well, he might at least try something...

He heard the door open and Sherlock stepped in. "What do you have for me, John?" he said.

"Nothing at the moment. This is impossible," John replied, letting out a sigh, "Any luck with Miss Moriarty?"

"I met her again yesterday. Mycroft caught her off guard and we more or less kidnapped her. She said some things to me but she escaped," Sherlock said.

"What kinds of things?" John asked.

"Everything she does is about Jim's death. She's only killing out of necessity. Miss Moriarty also said that her family offered her the position of boss and that the offer was unrefusable. Does that sound familiar to you?" he replied.

"It does...did she say anything else?" John said.

"She's being forced to do this. Oh, and she ridiculed me," Sherlock said as he picked up a vial and inspected it.

"Really? How could she possibly do that? She doesn't know you," John replied.

"That's the problem," he said. Sherlock had a dark look in his eyes and he looked disturbed. John was surprised by this and he stood up.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"She asked me if I was still dating Irene. Of course, I told her that I was not. She said that I toss people away when I lose interest in them or when they outlive their purpose," Sherlock said.

"That's harsh! How would she even know something like that?" John exclaimed.

"That's not the end of it. I told her that she knew nothing about me and she retaliated by saying that she knew about this because I had done the very same thing to her," Sherlock said.

"That means she's closer to us than we think," he replied.

"I think I know who she might be, John. Right after she said that, I almost called her Molly for no reason at all," Sherlock said quietly. John realized what this meant and he was very shocked.

"Oh my god. Molly can't be behind this. She's too sweet and...well, she's just Molly. That's-" John began.

"That's the thing. Most of the clues fit, John," he said through gritted teeth.

"I haven't heard much from her since she left. Neither has Mary. It could be a possibility but it would be so odd. What are you going to do? You love her, don't you?"

"I do feel that way about her and if it comes down to it and Miss Moriarty is Molly, then I'm not sure what I would do then. My emotions would get in the way (not like they already aren't) and it puts a little bias in the case," Sherlock said.

"This is a tough situation. Look, why don't we just hope it's not her and work on the cure for these diseases?" John said with a heavy sigh. Sherlock agreed to that and for the remainder of the afternoon, they worked on the cure. Sherlock was distracted by thoughts of Molly all day and in his heart, he really hoped that it wasn't her.

**_(Meanwhile, with Molly...)_**

Molly was at her apartment, preparing for her next murder. She had heard from Sebastian that Scotland Yard was looking for her. He had gotten that information from a spy they had planted in the police force. It was boring now, except for the text she had gotten earlier.

Molly had gotten a text from an unknown number earlier that said: Think on your sins carefully, Molly. She didn't know who sent it to her but it made her uneasy. Molly was laying low for the day but she would be up and about tonight.

Her next kill would require a little more work than usual. The fourth victim was Amanda Thompson. She had worked with Eddie Van Coon, the man that had stolen a valuable jade hairpin from China. In fact, she was his lover. Sherlock had worked on his case and she knew all about what had happened. Molly had chosen her because she wanted victims that were somewhat related to Sherlock. These kills were not as random as they seemed.

Molly had stolen files from Scotland Yard that had Sherlock as the primary investigator. Her first kill was of man that lived in the Baskervilles, a guy named Fletcher. He had done the tours concerning the so-called "hound". After the hound legend had been debunked, he lost his job and was left to do odd jobs, which didn't really bring in money. He was perfect because he also had been a good guitarist too. Molly used his skill against him to lure him to London with a fake flyer promising a well-paid and very publicized gig at a pub. She had sent the flyer to his mailbox and it also told him to meet her at her apartment in Belgravia. From there, Molly had gotten him drunk and she drove him to Mill Street, where she had injected him with the poison and killed him.

Her second, of course, was Gustave. He was Irene's newest client so she chose him to be her unlucky victim. Gustave had been staying at a small inn and she had kidnapped him the night before he died. She had Sebastian drug him and scratch the numbers into his chest. The next morning, she told him to make a call to Irene and that she would kill him if he didn't. He tried to save himself but ended up dying anyway so her mission was complete.

The third, of course, was Miss Kitty Riley. Molly really hated this woman. There was so much to despise. She was egocentric and obnoxious. Kitty was willing to do anything to get her story and she would twist and bend it to her will. To be honest, she reminded Molly of Rita Skeeter from the Harry Potter books. Even though she was playing against Sherlock in this game, she still hated Kitty for trying to ruin Sherlock. She didn't see it now, but Molly still harbored love for him, even after all that was happening. Somehow, she still cared.

Anyway, her fourth kill would be a little trickier. The jade hairpin that Eddie Van Coon had taken was on display at the National Gallery. Molly was going to steal it and put it in an envelope. Tomorrow, she would mark it as urgent mail and slip it in Scotland Yard's mail, as a sort of clue to the next murder. Her kill site was on Lawford Road. Molly had found Amanda's cellphone number by means of hacking and she was going to send her a text that would make her leave the office. Molly would be driving the cab and she would take her to an empty house on 26 Lawton Road, where she would carve the numbers in her chest and kill her. It was tedious, but it would work.

It was around seven when she finished making arrangements to break into London's National Gallery. She had Karl disable all the cameras for about an hour. The hairpin was in a special display room and it was surrounded by infrared lasers. They would ring an alarm if touched that would trigger the security system. There was no way she could disable that since there were so many. If one was moved, it would trigger the others. It was also in a case that had only one infrared laser that detected when the hairpin was out of place. She could disable that one. Molly would just drill a hole in the glass with a glass cutter and point the laser at the source with a mirror, which would disable it. After that, she would make her way out the same way she came.

Molly put on a close fitting jacket and a pair of snug pants. She wore light boots and her hair was in a tight bun. Molly took a cab that dropped her off about two blocks from the National Gallery. She went into the employee entrance and held her phone in front of it, which messed with the scanner and let her through. Molly went up the stairs and into the room where the hairpin was.

She saw the lasers and cracked her knuckles. Molly had found a path through them but it would require some bending and twisting. She got on her belly and crawled under a laser. Molly stretched up slowly and carefully got to her feet. There was a little space here so she did a slow backflip to avoid several lasers. She moved gracefully through the field and finally found her way to the case.

Molly took the glass cutter out of her pocket and made a hole. She held a mirror in front of the laser and immediately, it turned off. Molly put the hairpin in her pocket and began to make her way out of the room. She slipped through the field of lasers once more before she ended up at the door.

Molly quickly made her way out of the museum and she checked the clock on her way out. That had taken little time, about forty five minutes. She went back to her apartment and she had a wicked little smirk on her face.

Molly Moriarty had struck again.

* * *

That's all I've got! I hope you liked it and make sure to review. I like knowing what you guys think. I don't have an exact due date for the next chapter since it's finals week next week and we all know what that's like. Hopefully, I can post it by Thursday. **Don't forget to check out and follow me on tumblr too!**

-uniquename200


	10. Chapter 9: Think On Your Sins

Good morning, everyone! God, I was so excited to post this chapter. Oh look, it's five in the morning :) By the way, thanks for all the awesome reviews and I'm glad you liked super spy Molly! I was stuck on the last chapter and I was wondering what I should do with the story when my mom turned on the TV and started watching Get Smart. I saw the scene where Anne Hathaway goes through lasers and I literally thought,** "IT NEEDS A HEIST. THAT IS GENIUS."**

Well, there's more badass Molly here today (as if there isn't enough already)!_ I have a new special posted on my tumblr account, so go check it out if you haven't already done so!_

**Disclaimer:** **Sherlock belongs to a pair of men that obviously aren't me.**

* * *

**_(January 4th, 2013- 9:10 AM)_**

That morning, it was chaos in the Scotland Yard headquarters. They hadn't found Miss Moriarty yet but Lestrade wasn't going to give up yet. However, a valuable jade hairpin had been stolen from London's National Gallery. For the most part, the heist had baffled everyone. It was kept in a very secure room but none of the lasers had gone off. He had a hunch that this was Miss Moriarty's handiwork and had told Sherlock and John about it earlier this morning.

Mycroft had explained the situation with the deadly vials to him earlier and John had told him this morning that he couldn't come because he had a breakthrough in looking for the cure. However, Sherlock was here right now and he was going through the photographs of the murder victims. He looked deep in concentration and no one wanted to bother him. Lestrade tapped him on the shoulder anyway and Sherlock whirled around, looking annoyed.

"What?" he snapped.

"What are you doing?" Lestrade demanded.

"I'm finding things that link these victims. Quit bothering me," Sherlock said.

"Well, have you found anything? And if you have, would you care to explain it?" he replied.

"Of course I have. The first is of Fletcher Robinson, a 22-year old man who lived in the Baskervilles. I believe you met him, didn't you?" Sherlock said.

"Yeah, he was the guy doing the Hound tours, wasn't he?" Lestrade replied.

"Correct. The second kill was Gustave Michaels, who was a client of Irene's. The last one we had was Kitty, who I met during the Reichenbach fiasco," he said.

"So, are you saying that the next is someone that you met on one of your cases?" Lestrade asked.

"Obviously," Sherlock scoffed, "Miss Moriarty wants to relate all of these murders back to me."

"Well, who could be the next on-" Lestrade began. He was interrupted by Donovan, who burst into the room. She was carrying an envelope with a red seal and Sherlock's eyes narrowed when he saw it.

"Sir! We just found this in the mail room downstairs-" she said. Sherlock cut her off by snatching the envelope out of her hand and he looked at the front of it. It was addressed to him and he tore it open.

A light green hairpin fell out of the envelope. The moment he saw the hairpin, he knew who the next target was. Sherlock felt his phone buzz and he saw that it was a text from Miss Moriarty.

_**You should know who it is by now. Come and get us!**_

_**-M**_

There was a photo attached to the text. It was of a two story house, with tall steps and white edging around the door. He zoomed in but the house number had been blurred out. Sherlock printed out the photo and slapped it onto Lestrade's desk.

"Find this house. We have our next victim," he said. Lestrade groaned and leaned back in his chair.

"Dear god, who is it this time?" he replied.

"It's Amanda Thompson, the former owner of this hairpin," Sherlock said.

"How can you be sure? It could be the museum director or anyone else but her!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"It can't be. I was never involved with any of them in my cases. I questioned Amanda several times when I was working on the case with the Shad Sanderson Bank. Miss Moriarty knows too much about me," he muttered. Sherlock started to make his way out the door but Donovan stopped him.

"Wait a minute! Where are you going now?" she called.

"The bank!" he yelled in reply. Sherlock ran into the elevator and made his way down to the main floor. The Shad Sanderson Bank was a little far, but he could take the Tube to save him some time. He pushed past a multitude of people, hoping that he could arrive in time to save one woman and confront the other about her identity.

**_(Meanwhile, with Molly...)_**

Molly shut off her phone and waited in front of the Shad Sanderson Bank. How had she sent the text exactly when the hairpin fell out? She had told her contact to implant a camera in Lestrade's room last night. Molly had seen everything that had happened and she had asked her team of techies to delay them in searching for the house as much as possible. They might be able to buy her an hour or two to get the job done without any fuss.

She had sent Amanda a text already and she would be coming out of the doors at any moment. Molly had lied to her and pretended that she was the lawyer who had read Eddie Van Coon's will. She claimed that he had left her a very important box and that she pick it up immediately on 26 Lawford Road.

As for the cab, it had been stolen last night by Sebastian. This morning, she had put in all of her necessary tools and here she sat, parked in front of the Shad Sanderson Bank. She turned off the lighted sign on top of the car and waited for her victim. Her hands felt cold underneath her silky black gloves but she didn't feel remorse for what she was about to do.

Not yet, at least.

She watched Amanda rush out of the bank with her purse in hand and she looked hurried. Molly saw her look around for a bit before she ran towards Molly's cab. Amanda rushed in and she gave Molly a polite smile.

"26 Lawford Road, please," she said breathlessly. Molly was ready to drive into the traffic but she caught a view of Sherlock running inside from her rear view mirror and she stopped the car. He went into the bank and she waited about thirty seconds before texting him once more.

**_Oops! It looks like she's gone. You're going to have to be faster than that to beat me, Sherlock._**

**_-M_**

"Are we going or what?" Amanda called from the backseat.

"Right, sorry," Molly said. They went through the traffic and Molly brought her to the house. While they waited at a red light, Molly looked in the rear view mirror and saw her texting. She reached into her purse and put a vial of chloroform onto a rag. When they arrived, Amanda reached over to hand her some money.

"Thank you-" she started to say. Molly ignored her and clamped the rag over her nose. Amanda flailed momentarily but the chloroform took over before she could fight back. Molly parked the cab in the garage and brought her into the house.

She put Amanda on the floor in the empty living room. Molly went to the back of the cab and took out a machine with a tube attached to it. It would vacuum out all the blood in her system, making a clean and relatively easy kill. If put on high power, the vacuum took about fifteen minutes to finish draining all the blood in the body. Molly hoped that she would have enough time to do all the things she needed to.

She flipped Amanda over and stabbed a syringe with the next disease in the side of her neck. The skin immediately swelled up and she made a strangled choking noise. The chemical compound would work quickly and she would be dead within a matter of minutes. Molly took the needle from the blood pumping machine and stabbed it into the crook of her elbow, where blood was usually taken from. She turned on the machine and she watched the blood being pumped out of her, pint after pint.

Why did go to all this trouble just to take all of it out? It was really just a matter of personal preference. She honestly had no idea what it was about her and blood. Just thinking of it set her teeth on edge. It was sticky and made for a rather unpleasant mess. Molly was a rather meticulous woman who hated seeing things out of place. She really hated seeing it strewn about everywhere but yet, it was part of her work and everyday life. Molly was quite displeased when she heard how Sebastian had killed Kitty. She had heard that it was messy, which was very much unlike her style. Molly simply let it go, knowing that if she wanted it done right, she would do it herself.

Molly heard Amanda let out one last cry before breathing her last breath. Amanda was turning paler and paler by the second and her eyes rolled back in her head. With that. she was gone. Molly gently pushed her eyelids closed and she waited patiently for the meter on the machine to go to 100%. When it was done, she began to work on her victim.

Molly went to the car and pulled out her purse. She took a slim black case out of the bag that was actually a dissection kit there that Jim had gotten for her on her fourteenth birthday. Molly had never let it go and she thought it actually came in handy. She took the scissors and carefully cut the back of Amanda's shirt.

From there, she slashed in the house's coordinates with a scalpel. Molly put the machine back into the car and figured that she might as well just put the bag of blood on a bloodbank's doorstep. She threw her purse in the passenger's seat and opened the garage door. Molly parked the car outside of the house and stood up to close the door behind her.

And that's when she heard the sirens.

Molly swore loudly and saw the cars coming around the corner. She jumped into the car and slammed on the gas pedal. There were more coming and she swerved down Patshull Place to avoid them from cutting her off and surrounding her.

She heard the sirens behind her and swerved left and right on the empty road to avoid gunshots. Molly took a sudden turn to the left into Kentish Town Road. She ran a red light and turned into the Prince of Wales Road. From there, she went seventy miles an hour and was roaring down the street. The sirens behind her were diminishing and she weaved in between the cars. She had quite a bit of distance now and she suddenly turned into an alley. Molly grabbed her bag and the box containing the machine and she bolted through the alley and into Haverstock Hill. She ran into the Chalk Farm Underground Station and pushed past people to get through. Molly ran into a train that was leaving and barely had enough time to get in.

She looked behind her and was relieved to see that she had lost them. Molly rode the train back to Buckingham Palace and she took a cab back to her flat on Wilton Row. She turned on the TV and saw her little car chase all over the news. Molly merely sighed and went to her closet to grab a disguise. She couldn't go out as herself right now and she wanted the blood out of her house.

Molly grabbed her nurse disguise and put the jacket over her clothes. She tied her hair into a ponytail and put the blood bag in a styrofoam container. Molly put on a pair of white tennis shoes and headed out of the house.

She dropped off the blood at a nearby blood bank, saying that she worked at St. Luke's and that they needed to get rid of it. The blood bank gratefully accepted it and she left as quickly as she had came.

Molly went into the street and flagged down a taxi. She went inside of it and smiled politely at the cab driver. "14 Wilton Row, please," she said. The driver didn't seem to hear her and she leaned forward and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, I need to go to-" she began. The driver cut her off and clamped a rag over her nose. Molly screamed and tried to punch him but he was stronger than her and knocked her out in a matter of seconds.

When she woke up, it was completely dark. She could feel rope around her wrists and ankles and someone had tied her to a chair. Molly was also blindfolded, so she really couldn't see anything. She felt anger in her heart and she could think of one man who would be capable of kidnapping her.

"Bloody hell, Mycroft! If this is one of your stupid little tricks-" she began.

_"Oh? You're quite silly, Molly,"_ a voice said, letting out a soft laugh. Molly's heart stopped when she realized that this guy wasn't Mycroft. Who had she been kidnapped by? Her heart was beating a million times a minute and the blood pounded in her ears.

"Who are you?" she said, trying to sound strong. The voice sounded somewhat familiar, but she didn't know whose it was.

"I'm a man who's been watching your little game with Sherlock Holmes," the man said.

"What do you want?" Molly said, trying to keep her voice under control. She was terrified, since she knew that she was screwed. She cursed herself for going to the blood bank. Why couldn't she have just waited until tomorrow? No one had known that she had left her house, so she was completely alone.

"Are you scared? What a pity. You shouldn't be afraid of me," he said.

"I said, what do you want?" she said, with a little more force than before.

"Your game with Sherlock is...well, you're setting the stakes higher and higher with each kill, Molly," he said.

"So?" she replied.

"It's too much," the voice said.

"There is no such thing as too much," Molly said matter-of-factly. The man let out an exasperated sigh and she wondered who he could be.

"You need to listen me. Do you remember how you were before this all started?" he said.

"I was weak," she said simply.

"Wrong. You were you. You were the sweet, kind, and gentle soul that you should be. Your innocence and kindness was what Sherlock loved about you. Look at yourself now. What have you become?" he said. The man's words began to sink in and she felt mixed emotions stirring in her heart. Molly knew that this man (whoever he was) was dangerously close to unearthing her hidden fears and buried doubts. She wasn't sure of what to feel but she answered him anyway.

"I became what the Moriarty family needed after my brother died," she said softly.

"Wrong again. You became one of them. I don't know what your original goals were but you lost sight of being good and look where that's gotten you," he said.

"You don't know me," she said, her tone razor sharp. Molly knew this man was reading her like an open book and she didn't want him digging up her doubt and shame.

"Oh, I know all about your sins, Molly. You've turned into a sociopathic murderess, a monster. I know that you are aware that what you're doing is wrong. You've just buried it under everyone else's hopes and expectations. Now, you can't even bear to see your mistakes exposed in the light," he said.

"Stop it. Please," Molly said. A tear rolled down her cheek and she felt her heart sinking in her chest. Her emotions were spilling over quickly and she didn't know what else to say to this man. How could she make him stop?

"Tell me, Molly, why do you play this game?" he said.

"I have to. I'll be killed if I quit," she said softly.

"Oh no, you can't use that excuse anymore. It doesn't look like you're being forced to do it anymore. Not to me, Sherlock, or any of your other friends. You've lost yourself in the game. Now tell me, why are you playing the game? Don't you love Sherlock at all?" he said. She found that she could not answer and her worst fears were resurfacing.

"I don't know," Molly whispered. Another tear streamed down her face and a mixture of shame and guilt was shaking her to the core.

What was this all for?

"I need an answer," the man said calmly, "Do you love him, Molly?"

"No," she said quickly, "I don't anymore." She knew at once that she was lying to herself. Even after everything that had happened, she still loved him. Molly had no idea why but her feelings for him never died.

Despite the fact that her family despised him, her affection for him did not disappear. When he had chose Irene, however, it had made her feel jealous and he had hurt her so much. Molly wanted to get away from him and her family exploited the fact that Sherlock had hurt her to fuel the empire's growth. Molly was told (by Sebastian, in particular) to work hard during her eight month leave so she could show him that she was strong and totally fine without him. Naively, she believed him and the words of her other family members and she became what she was now.

Molly had simply buried her love for Sherlock under her cold and seemingly perfect façade but it never went away. It was still there, even now. Maybe it was because he made her feel things that she had never felt before and her heart would skip a beat every time she saw him. Well, that didn't happen as much as it did before but the love was still there.

"Don't lie to me, dear. Tell me the truth," he said, letting out a soft laugh. She swallowed back a half-formed sob and answered him in as strong of a voice as she could manage.

"I love him with all my heart but I've gone and messed everything up. There's no hope left for me," she said. Molly was in tears and she could literally feel the man grinning smugly at her.

"There could be some hope left for you two if you were to put a stop to all of this. The criminal world had changed you for the worse and this woman I see isn't you."

"It's too late to stop," Molly whispered as she let out a somewhat hysterical laugh. The man's words had gotten through to her and she finally realized the gravity of this catastrophe.

This was one giant mess.

"Why?" he said.

"Look, I don't know who you are but congratulations. You win. Everything you've said about me is true. This isn't like me at all and I really shouldn't be doing this. But, I can't undo the damage I've done. I've hurt too many people already and I've turned my life into one big mess. I have to finish the game somehow," she said.

"You could quit now," he said, "It seems like a good option."

"If I quit and run away, my family will hunt me down and kill me. Once they've killed me, they'll kill Sherlock. I know that will happen if I do quit," she replied.

"That is true. You've cause quite the fiasco here, Molly," the man said. Molly wasn't listening to him and she was looking at all the angles in her current crisis. Her heart sank when she realized what had to happen. It was the only way she could fulfill her father's wishes, satisfy her family, and keep Sherlock safe.

"I have to lose," she whispered.

"What?"

"That's the only way out of this. I have to lose the game," Molly said. She had a smile on her face that honestly terrified the man in front of her. He did not know what she meant by her words but he knew that it wasn't good.

"By lose, do you mean turning yourself in or what?" he said.

"I don't need to tell you," she said. Molly was extending her lips downward and she was slipping off the blindfold, little by little. The man saw what she was doing and he chuckled softly.

"I think that it's time for you to go," he said. She felt him poke a needle into her shoulder and she let out a surprised yelp. Molly felt a little woozy and she quickly fell unconscious once more.

When she woke up again, she was in her bed at her home on Wilton Row. It was dark in the house and she had no idea what time it was. Molly sat up abruptly and she looked around. Was that all a dream? She really wasn't sure of what had happened, but at least she was home.

She stood up an looked around. Molly opened her fridge to see if the blood was there. She turned on her phone to check the date and was surprised to find that it was still January 4th, 2013. However, it was about nine o'clock in the evening. She couldn't remember what exactly had happened after she got home from the car chase and her thoughts felt jumbled. However, she could remember everything that had happened with the man. Maybe she had just gone home and fell asleep and the situation with the guy had been a dream.

Molly didn't see the blood there and she began to wonder what she had done with it. She looked at the box sitting on the table that held the blood vacuum and that was enough to kick start her memory. She had gone to the blood bank and dropped off the bag. Molly had gone into a cab and was kidnapped by the driver.

It was all real.

There was a paper on her table that also helped her believe that everything had really happened. It was a small post-it note written in hasty script.

_Think on your sins, Miss Moriarty._

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Well, that was interesting! Who do you guys think her kidnapper was? I hope you can figure it out!

Again, leave me some reviews and check out the tumblr! I probably won't have anything posted until next Wednesday on Thursday. Sorry!

-uniquename200


	11. Chapter 10: The Last Murder

Hello! Here is our next chapter! I posted it a little early because I just couldn't wait until Thursday. I absolutely loved all of your reviews but I won't say who her kidnapper was yet. I'll leave you to your deductions and I honestly can't wait to see your reactions when you find out who it is!

But anyway, here's a fair warning and I'll put it out now. **This is the longest chapter in the entire story**. It might be a bit too long or whatever but it's that way for a good reason. A lot of stuff goes down in this chapter, so** read it well!**

_**Disclaimer:** __You know the drill. I own this fic but I don't own Sherlock. I would say that I did but seeing how it's not April Fool's Day, then I will not._

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**_(January 25, 2013- 9:10 AM)_**

Last night's kidnapping had greatly unsettled Molly. She had been unable to sleep last night because she was thinking about what the man had told her. He was right about everything. She couldn't believe that he had read her that easily and she wondered who the hell he was.

Molly had also realized how wrong all of this was. She had gotten herself into a big mess and she didn't know how she might get herself out. The kidnapping had reminded her of the original plan and she had at least half succeeded in that. Sherlock wasn't dead at the Moriarty family's hands yet. She had also taken the job, so she was technically fulfilling her father's wishes. But, she was not happy with her life and she felt tainted by this whole affair. She wanted to stop killing people but she knew that she had to finish this. Molly still needed to kill the last man, Oliver Welch.

He would complete the job with the coordinates and would lead Sherlock to the last location. Oliver Welch was the chief superintendent of Scotland Yard and was the same man that wanted to arrest Sherlock during the Reichenbach ordeal. She would kill him and dump his body on Holmes Terrace, near Waterloo Station.

She ate her breakfast quietly and dressed up to head out for the last kill. Her face would be covered by a large black hat and a pair of sunglasses so she wouldn't be recognized. Molly chose to wear a lacy white shirt and a pair of jean shorts under a black trench coat. She buttoned up the coat and put on a pair of heels for her disguise. She took out an old gift box and put her blood vacuum inside of that, to make it look inconspicuous. Molly opened up her phone and told her techies to hack a computer via IP Address for her. She knew Oliver's secretary kept a daily schedule for him and she would use it to lure him into his death. Molly needed another cab for this and she would steal one while she was out.

Her phone beeped several minutes later and she got a text with a copy of his itinerary. Oliver would be heading out for breakfast with the higher ups of Scotland Yard at the Auberge Restaurant in about a half hour so she would just wait outside the Scotland Yard headquarters for him. She put on a pair of black gloves and grabbed her purse, which was reversible if you flipped it inside out. It wasn't the prettiest bag, but it was what she needed right now. Molly put her dissection kit inside, along with a pair of black lace up sneakers and the vial that contained the last virus. She poured some chloroform onto a rag and headed out the door with her blood vacuum in her arms. Molly hid it behind her back and flagged down a taxi cab.

She got into the shotgun seat and clamped over the driver's nose without warning. He choked and let out a muffled scream. Within a matter of seconds, he slumped over and she knew he was out. Molly switch spots with him and drove the car to a back alley. She threw his body in the trunk and got in the driver's seat. Molly put the blood vacuum and her backpack on the shotgun seat and flipped on the in-service sign. Time to go.

She drove through the streets of London and waited patiently in front of the Scotland Yard building. She held the vial and put the serum in a syringe so she could administer it quickly. Molly saw Oliver head out of the building and he was putting on his coat. He was about to walk off but Molly honked her horn loudly to make him notice her. His eyes lit up when he saw the empty cab and he walked to her.

Oliver got in the back seat and let out a sigh. "I need to go to the Auberge Restaurant on Cornwall Road," he said. She glanced at him in the rear view mirror and smiled at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I'm a little hard of hearing. What was that?" she said. He leaned forward and was going to talk but she clamped the rag over his nose. Oliver tried to fight back but he was growing weaker by the second. However, he managed to punch her in the cheek. Molly retracted her grip and rubbed her cheek. She heard a thump and saw him pass out in the backseat. Molly drove down the street and parked at the side of a mostly deserted road. Molly turned off the in-service light and began to work.

She stuck the syringe in his neck and watched as the virus took another life. He was dead in about two minutes, maybe less. She got out, with the blood vacuum in her arms, and climbed into the backseat. Molly began draining the blood and she drove again, so as not to cause suspicion. As she sat in traffic, she decided to send Sherlock a text, which would alert him of another murder.

_It's too bad that the chief superintendent had to miss breakfast._

_-M_

After driving around for a while, she heard the blood vacuum beep. It was done! She drove into a service road and parked at the curb. Molly went to the backseat and flipped Oliver over. She cut his shirt open carefully and scratched in the numbers. Molly took out the syringe in his arm and took the blood vacuum back to the front seat.

She put on the large black hat and began to drive to Waterloo Station, hoping that she didn't have anyone following her. Molly arrived at Holmes Terrace in about fifteen minutes and wiped the car clean of fingerprints. Molly took all of her belongings and left the cab in the alley. She walked down the street and went inside the station.

Molly weaved in and out of the crowds and went inside a bathroom. In there, she got inside a stall and took off her heels. Molly laced up her sneakers and tied her hair in a loose ponytail. She emptied out her purse and turned the bag inside out, which changed the design into a different pattern. Molly put her coat, shoes, hat, sunglasses, and dissection kit inside. After making sure that she hadn't left anything, she made her way out of the bathroom and hopped on a train back to Belgravia. She rode the train home and when she opened the door, she took out her cell. Molly opened up her phone and was slightly delighted to see a new text from Sherlock.

**What have you done to him?**

**-SH**

_See for yourself._

_-M _

Molly went on the Internet and got a picture of the Fire Station Pub, which was right next to Holmes Terrace. She attached it to her text and waited for his reply. By the time she got home, she checked her phone but he had not replied. Molly merely sighed and settled into her couch. It was about 10:45, so she still had a lot of time to kill.

What now?

**_(Meanwhile, with Sherlock...)_**

Sherlock inspected Oliver's body carefully and took note of the markings on his back in the silent morgue of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. They had found him inside a cab, so he figured that she had stolen a taxi this morning and waited for him outside the Scotland Yard building. Miss Moriarty had known his schedule and had jumped at the chance to steal him away from the breakfast.

He had texted Mycroft for the results of the CCTV camera scan. The cameras from across the street had captured an image of a woman in black coat and a black hat walking away from the car. She had gotten into Waterloo Station and they had lost track of her there.

Sherlock decided that he had seen everything that he needed to and he took a cab back to Baker Street. She wasn't actually the one troubling him at the moment. It was the coordinates. What on earth could they mean? This was the last murder, since she had used all the vials. What did she mean by writing them?

He got off the cab and went inside his home. It was silent, since it was Mrs. Hudson's Zumba day, which would work to his advantage. He needed to retreat to his mind palace, which required a great deal of silence. There would be no thinking done if she was running about, cleaning her flat upstairs.

Sherlock opened a drawer and stuck two nicotine patches on his arm. He laid down on the couch and began his long thinking process. Sherlock needed to catch her, to be one step ahead. But there was no real way of doing that since she basically had him under her thumb. Miss Moriarty hadn't given him ways to prevent the deaths but had made him wait for her next move. Even then, he hadn't been able to save any lives in the process.

How could he beat her at the game?

Sherlock sat and thought for a long time and he had realized that all of this ultimately relied on her next move. He hated that things had to be this way. Sherlock was used to being in control. He didn't like it when someone else was and they were taking lives in the process.

He finally sat up and glanced at the clock. It was about 5:15 and it looked like most of the day had been wasted. His long period of thinking had passed, which left him with nothing to do. Sherlock stood up and went to the kitchen. He went towards the fridge for some milk but stopped when he saw the white iPhone from Miss Moriarty buzzing on the table. Sherlock picked it up and unlocked it, curious to see what she had left for him this time.

_Hello, Sherlock. Dinner would be delightful, don't you think? Meet me at the Café de Lhuiller at seven and dress nicely, by the way. I do love a sharply dressed man._

_-M_

Sherlock set the phone down and took a quick swig of milk. He picked it up again and opened up the messaging app and sent her a reply.

**What makes you think that I would go?**

**-SH**

_Dinner with me is far too interesting for you to miss. Besides, I need to talk to you about our little game. I'll see you at seven._

_-M_

Sherlock didn't object to that response and he went to his bedroom to get dressed for his dinner date. Miss Moriarty was right. He wasn't going to miss an opportunity to see her. Why?

He still needed to confront her about her identity.

**_(Meanwhile, with Molly...)_**

Molly stood in front of her closet, looking for a dress to wear to dinner. That wouldn't be a problem, since she had quite a handful, but she needed something that looked provocative but not overtly sexy. She figured that she would wreck her good name tonight so she thought, why not look gorgeous while doing it?

Molly pulled out the blue dress that she had worn when she had met Sebastian at Café de Lhuiller a year ago but threw it back in the closet. That would be too obvious and there would be no fun in that. Molly found the dress she had worn to the Christmas party a while back and she nearly burst into laughter. There was no way she would wear that!

After going through the entire color spectrum, she finally settled on a pretty black dress. It had two straps and a sweetheart neckline that accentuated her bust quite nicely. It was tight at the torso and to the thigh but fell gracefully down to her ankles. There was a slit at the side that stretched just above her knee and was barely noticeable, unless you were looking in that direction. The dressed hugged her curves in all the right places and she knew that she had made a good choice. She wasn't trying to seduce Sherlock, but she figured that her attire would be enough to keep his attention.

Molly curled her hair and slung it over one shoulder, which looked simple and elegant. She applied a coat of blood red lipstick and put on a pair of black heels with straps criss-crossing over the foot. Molly put on a diamond bracelet and decided that was all the jewelry she needed. She felt like a girl in the James Bond films and she smiled at her mental comparison.

She picked up a black clutch bag and put in her phone, makeup, wallet, and house keys. It was about 6:30 so she figured that it would be alright to be early. Molly still had to go through traffic, so that was a factor she had to take into account. She shut the door to her home and made her way into the street to get a cab. Molly flagged one down and made her way to the café.

She got out in front of Café de Lhuiller and walked towards the waiter at the podium. "Hello," she said, giving him a smile.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle. Table for one?" he said.

"Two, actually. I've got a date coming later," Molly said. He nodded and took two menus. The man motioned for her to follow him and they went to a table next to the window.

Molly sat down and began to wait for Sherlock. It was ten until seven, so she could wait a bit for him. Molly sat silently for twenty minutes, waiting for him, but he still did not appear. A familiar feeling settled in the pit of her stomach and she felt a little irritated.

Had he forgotten?

She gazed out the window, at the bright lights of London and heard two footsteps approaching her. Molly looked up and saw Sherlock following the waiter. He looked debonair in his suit and she stood up and gave him a dazzling smile.

"Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think you had stood me up," she said. Molly noticed that he had opened his mouth to make a witty comeback but he shut it and looked at her appearance with keen interest.

"Good evening," he said as he took his seat. "I didn't expect you to be so dolled up for this occasion."

"I'm having dinner with you in this high-end restaurant. Why not look nice while I'm at it?" she said as she took her seat. The waiter handed them a pair of menus and quickly took their order. He looked at her the entire time with that cold and calculating stare of his and not once did he look up. The waiter rushed away and she fidgeted slightly under his gaze.

"Now that we're through with the pleasantries, explain why exactly you needed to see me," he said.

"It's about our game, Sherlock. What do you think will be my next move?" Molly said. He examined her for about ten minutes or so, obviously reading her body language and making deductions about her. She could tell that he was being very careful about what he would say and that there was a different sort of look on his face, like he was holding himself back from saying something. That was very unlike Sherlock. If something needed to be said, he would say it. The only rational explanation for that would be that he had figured out her identity already. The feeling of him looking at her like that made her skin crawl and she felt like a lab specimen under a microscope.

"Since you're asking me that, I'm assuming that you are stuck. You don't know where to go from here. You've used all of the viruses and you've played all your cards but the game isn't over, is it?" he finally said.

"I'm glad you understand the situation. You and I both know how this ends," she replied.

"The game ends with one victor and one loser," Sherlock said coolly.

"And we both know what happens to the loser, don't we?" Molly said softly. He merely smirked and the waiter came by with their food. They ate in silence and Molly fought off this feeling of unease. What was she going to tell him next? He had that kind of effect on her, one that she could not describe and this silence unnerved her. The waiter came by a little while later and took their plates, unaware of the silent war that was going on between the two. He looked at her in the eyes once more and her eyes drifted around the room to avoid his piercing gaze. She had seemed so brave before, when there were other people around. But now that it was just the two of them, she felt like she wanted to just run away from him.

"-hy did you use the chief superintendent, Miss Moriarty?" he said, interrupting her thoughts. Sherlock spat out her name, like it was something unholy and poisonous.

"Hmm?" she said. Molly put her hands in her lap and returned her attention to him.

"The chief superintendent was not central to my previous cases. Why him and not someone bigger, like Max Bruhl?" he said.

"Max Bruhl, the British ambassador? Oh, please. He's got two kids and a wife. I won't take a father away from his loving family. I'm not that soulless," Molly scoffed. He raised an eyebrow skeptically but didn't argue with her.

"You're different from Jim, you know. At least you've maintained some of your humanity. But that doesn't explain why you chose Oliver," Sherlock pointed out.

"Oliver was a single and arrogant man. No one would have missed him. To add to that, he attempted to arrest you during the Reichenbach fiasco. It was the perfect choice and it paid my respects to my brother," she replied.

"You used his murder to double as an homage to the last game, the one with Jim in it," he said. "You're more cunning than I thought you were."

"And you didn't think much of me before, did you?" she blurted out. Molly quickly slapped down her hand to keep it from flying to her mouth. She honestly hadn't meant to say that. He raised an eyebrow and she racked her brain for a response to what he would say.

"Before? What are you trying to say?" he said, his eyes narrowing. Molly went silent for a while and she realized, with a sinking heart, that it was time to tell him who she was. She felt her courage diminishing and she called over the waiter and ordered a bottle of wine. Molly poured some in their glasses and Sherlock watched her down an entire glass in one go. He took a large drink of his wine and figured that she had taken the drink to keep her courage up. She was going to say something big and he had a feeling that he knew what it was. The alcohol was sinking in and she felt a familiar, lovely buzz in her system.

"Do you know why I chose my victims the way I did, Sherlock?" she said softly.

"Of course. You wanted them to relate to me somehow," he said.

"So you did pick up on that. If you're so clever, then answer this for me. Why did I choose this restaurant out of hundreds of other restaurants in London?" she said. Her words rang loudly in her ears and she looked intently at the empty glass in front of her.

"Of course I do. You chose the Café de Lhuiller because you had dinner here about nine months ago with Sebastian, **_Molly_**," he said, putting emphasis on her name. She let out a laugh and gave him a rueful smile.

"You're right, as always. I'm surprised Mycroft didn't tell you earlier," Molly said. His expression darkened and he leaned back in his chair.

"I was hoping that I wasn't. Why did that bastard get to know before I did?" he said, sounding angry. She noticed that he looked ashamed and slightly disgusted and panic began to creep up in her bones.

"I couldn't tell you because I wasn't allowed to," she said. He let out an annoyed sigh and she watched him carefully.

"What's happened to you to make you like this?" Sherlock said. He finished off his wine and poured another glass, to numb the emotions that were going through him. Sherlock didn't know what to feel at this point, and neither did she. Molly didn't know what to expect in his reaction and she gulped down another glass to cope with her unease. They both were beginning to feel a tipsy by the effects of the alcohol but that didn't seem to affect them much at all.

Not yet, at least.

"It was a lot of things, actually. You started dating Irene and that really...you know, it hurt me a lot. I wanted to avoid you as much as possible and then Sebastian told me about the job. He explained the conditions and how it might help me stay away from you for a while. I didn't have much of a choice and I took it," she said softly.

"Why would it hurt you? You of all people would know why I would even date her," he said.

"Well, I didn't know. I still don't know why you dated her. And why would you think that I wouldn't be hurt by the news of your new girlfriend? Being thrown aside by a man that I've loved for years for a legalized prostitute doesn't exactly do wonders for my soul," she said matter-of-factly. Molly realized what she said and took another sip of wine. These were things that he needed to hear and there was no way she could say them unless she completely lost all inhibitions.

"Did you even know I was in love with you?" she asked.

"Of course I did. I don't think there's a woman out there that would stick with me as long as you did without good reason," he said.

"Then why did you choose Irene?" Molly said. She looked at him intently and he took a drink of his wine, to stall her. He was trying to think of how to explain the situation to her without making her angry.

"I chose Irene because she had connections to the Moriarty Network that I did not have," he said carefully.

"So, you were using her in an attempt to destroy the network," Molly said slowly. She was trying to comprehend this but her thoughts felt blurred and she felt nothing but shock and a bit of anger. There was a long silence and Molly gripped her glass and took a long drink. She set it down and gave him a small but controlled smile.

"It's ironic, how you chose what you thought would lead you to the network while you let go of the one woman that was the closest to the Moriarty family all along," she said.

"I was too focused on my own goals and I forgot to take your emotions into account," he said. "I have hurt you, Molly."

"You always hurt me and I know that," she said.

"Then why do you still love me?" Sherlock said, sounding confused. He was never going to understand her feelings for him. She was like an equation without a solution, something that he would never be able to solve.

To him, she was Molly, the enigma.

Molly didn't answer and gave him a cryptic and somewhat weary smile. "Do you always intend to hurt me, Sherlock?" she asked, deflecting his question.

"I...don't do it intentionally," he says. Sherlock was actually being honest with her, for once. It was strange, but it felt right to him. "And for that, I believe that I owe you an apology," he said.

She didn't answer him again and gazed out the dark window. They sat in silence and they both drank red wine until the entire bottle was gone. By the time they had finished the wine, they were both completely wasted. Molly turned away from the window and back to Sherlock to face him.

"After everything that's happened...do you think that I'm a monster for doing all of this?" she slurred.

"I honestly don't know what to think," he replied. The waiter came by with a bill and Molly put £100 inside. The pair stumbled outside but it was still quiet between them. They stood out in the sidewalk and waited for a cab to come by. Molly felt her heart flutter a little when she realized what she really wanted to ask him.

"Sherlock, did you ever love me?" Molly blurted out. She didn't know what kind of response to expect from him but she really didn't care anymore. They were both totally drunk, so what did it matter?

"Why wouldn't I? You are smart, delightfully witty, and honestly quite beautiful. And did I mention that you look undeniably tempting in that dress of yours?" he murmured into her ear.

"Me? Tempting? I don't think so," she said teasingly.

"Your appearance is just asking for inappropriate thoughts," Sherlock said. She grinned and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"You're not looking so bad yourself," Molly whispered. "I love a man in a suit."

At this point, all the sexual tension that had piled up over the years finally found its release. She kissed him boldly on the lips and was not surprised to find that he didn't resist. They stood on the sidewalk, kissing passionately and completely ignored the fact that they were in public. A cab came by and they both stumbled into the back of the car.

"221...Baker Street," Sherlock said in between kisses. The driver let out an unheard complaint and a disgusted grumble. Nonetheless, he drove them to Sherlock's flat. Sherlock tossed him some money and they stumbled through the door without breaking their kisses. He led her upstairs where they were to do things that neither of them would forget for quite a while.

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I'll admit that the last part was a little awkward for me to write. Sorry if it was bad! I'm not usually very experienced in writing that sort of thing.

Anyway, that's it! A lot of stuff went down in this chapter and you can be sure that there will be more coming. I don't know when I can get the next one posted but I'll try getting it done by Sunday.

Don't forget to drop by the reviews section and leave me some feedback!

-uniquename200


	12. Chapter 11: The Final Solution

This is it, guys. This is the third to last chapter in this story. It's a **BIG** chapter too. So, I'm warning you now because this chapter is full of feelings. Anyway, **THIS NEXT PART IS IMPORTANT, DONT SKIP IT.**

**_I want you to listen to these three songs while you're reading. The songs are Shake It Out by Florence + The Machine, Never Say Never by The Fray, and What Sarah Said by Death Cab For Cutie. This is what I wrote this chapter to and I almost cried. It was horrible and I'd like you to check out the lyrics because they SERIOUSLY depressed me. I hope it give you as much feelings as it did to me. I'll tell you when you should switch songs too, so look out for that!_**

**_Disclaimer: _**_This story is mine, but Sherlock isn't._

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**_(A/N: Start listening to Shake It Out!)_**

Rain pounded against the window and Molly stared at it blankly. She was in Sherlock's bed, stark naked, and entwined in Sherlock's arms. What had happened last night had come as a sort of surprise to her and what he said to her at dinner had made her uneasy. He loved her, but now what? Where would that lead her?

She could not decide what else to do and she could see no way out. All of her options were quite unfavorable. She had ruled over an empire that had crumbled right under her feet. Molly used to have everything but now she had nothing. Regret filled her thoughts and she wished that she could take all of this back. Her long buried guilt was scratching its way to the surface and it was taking her emotions by storm. She wanted to forget about all of this and run away but there was no way she could.

Molly's thoughts were jumbled and her brain felt foggy. As she lay there with him, she finally realized that she couldn't think and slowly got out of the bed. He was still sleeping, even after she had put her clothes on. Molly had left him a note on the table, with only two words on it.

_I'm sorry._

She left Baker Street without a sound and took a cab back to her flat on Wilton Row. Molly sat in the backseat, with a distressed expression on her face. She had a lot of emotions inside of her that were threatening to be released, all at one. Molly was ready to cry her heart out because she knew was stuck. It was a life or death situation now.

She unlocked the door to her home and Molly looked at herself in the mirror. Her outer appearance was seemingly perfect but it was all a façade. It was her eyes that gave her away. They were full of pain and they seemed to say, "What have I done?" She stared into her big mournful brown eyes and Molly began to cry bitter tears. This was all her fault.

What the hell was she even doing? This wasn't her! She had promised herself at the beginning of this that she wouldn't turn into one of them but now, it looked like she had become a true Moriarty. Molly was a monster.

The looks on Sherlock's face when he had found out last night had broken her heart. He looked so disgusted and ashamed of her. It made her hate herself, a feeling she didn't enjoy. She could not bear to look at him, or anyone else. All she felt was shame. At that moment, Molly realized how this all had to end.

She had to die.

It would have to be done. She would be dead if she did it and damned if she didn't do it, so what did she have to lose? This was how the game had been played for centuries and that was how the game was won. The winner would be the one left standing and it was either her or him.

And there would be no way she would let him lose.

She wanted to kill herself and let him win the game. Why would she give up her life for the very man that loved her? Maybe it was the immense amount of self-loathing that she felt. Molly was so disgusted with herself and she felt like she had to die. knew that even if she lived, there would be nothing left for her. It was all over. Once everyone found out who Miss Moriarty was, life would never be the same for her. Molly was sure that her friends would look at her differently, in a sense and she felt that she couldn't handle all that shame.

Her death would also mean the end of the Moriarty Network. All of the important files concerning the empire were stored on her iPhone. It was a custom operating system so all she had to do was input a code that would destroy everything, which in turn would destroy the entire Moriarty Network. There would be no way for them to rebuild from there. The game would be over and she would technically fulfill her father's wishes. He never said what she had to do once she had gained control. All he said was to stick with the job.

And to fuel her reason for death, she couldn't bear with facing Sherlock and the rest of her friends. Were they still friends anyway? She didn't know but was sure that life for her would never be the same. She was stupid to even think that she could leave the past behind. Molly hated herself for everything she had done and for all the pain she had caused them. This was how it had to be, and she felt that it was the right way to pay for her sins. Molly realized something that made her considerably happier, despite her unfavorable situation.

This was the first decision she had made in a while that she didn't regret.

**_(Meanwhile, with Sherlock...)_**

Sherlock opened his eyes groggily and looked around. Why was it so cold? He stood up before he finally realized that he was completely naked. Last night's events came to his mind and he remembered his dinner date with Miss Moriarty. Sherlock's brain was fuzzy, but he remembered all the important points.

Miss Moriarty was Molly.

He remembered that he had told her why he dated Irene. They had also confessed their love to each other. Sherlock briefly recalled that they made out on the sidewalk and had gotten in a cab and went to his flat on Baker Street. Well, at least that explained why he didn't have any clothes on.

Sherlock put on his favorite grey bathrobe and was about to head out into the kitchen. He spotted a folded note on the nightstand and eyed it with curiosity. Sherlock saw his name on it and saw the two words on it.

I'm sorry.

He let out a disappointed sigh at realizing that she wasn't here. Molly had left him. That wasn't good at all because he needed to talk to her. Sherlock had a bad feeling about the events to come and couldn't help but feel worried at what was going to happen next. He sincerely hoped that she wasn't going to end things the same way Jim had when they played the game.

Sherlock sipped quietly at his coffee and tried to remember more from their encounter. He suddenly recalled that she had said that Mycroft knew about everything before he did. Sherlock stood up and got dressed. He was angry and felt the need to talk to his older brother.

Sherlock got into a cab and headed towards Mycroft's office. He stopped in front of a stately white building and opened the door with a great degree of ferocity. Anthea looked up in surprise and he walked up to her desk.

"I need to talk to Mycroft. Where is he?" he said.

"He's in his office. Let me call him first-" she began. Sherlock walked past her and ignored her protests. He threw open the door and glared at his brother, who was drinking a cup of tea while doing his paperwork.

"You forgot to knock," Mycroft said.

"To hell with manners! You knew who Miss Moriarty was all along, didn't you?" Sherlock said.

"Ah, so you found out. How did you know?" he said.

"She and I had dinner last night. Why didn't you tell me sooner, that she was Molly?" Sherlock snapped. Mycroft sighed and set down his cup.

"Take a seat over there, Sherlock. I'll tell you everything," he said. Sherlock sat down and kept his eyes on Mycroft.

"How did you find out before me?" he said. Sherlock sounded like a petulant child and it brought some amusement to Mycroft. _Ah, he hates being kept in the dark_, Mycroft thought.

"It was on the day she left that she told me. She came by the Diogenes Club and told me she was the new leader. Molly offered to make a treaty between us, one where would leave each other alone. And we both know how that turned out," he said.

"Now, I didn't say anything to you because I know how you felt about her. I'm not an idiot. I know that you would get dangerously emotionally involved and that your...feelings would get in the way of your judgement, so to speak," Mycroft continued. Sherlock had now calmed down a little but he was still a little pissed.

"What will you do about her, Sherlock?" Mycroft said.

"I'm not sure. She used up every vial and she even asked me last night what she should do next. We briefly talked about how everything would end and I have a bad feeling about whatever she's going to do," Sherlock replied.

"Look, even I'm not sure of what you should do. I'm afraid I can't help you, Sherlock. Just go home and think for a while," he said, holding up his hands.

"Maybe I will," Sherlock muttered. He stood up and made his way out of the office. Sherlock walked down the street and jumbled thoughts were going in and out of his brain. He had a vague plan but it was tough to execute without incriminating Molly. Sherlock flagged down a cab and told the driver to go to the MI6 building.

He marched past security scanners and eventually made his way into his mother's office. She was working on her computer and looked up to see her son approaching. "Ah, Sherlock! What brings you here?" she said.

"Mother, may I see the files for the case?" he said.

"Of course, dear. Here you are," she said as she gave him a folder. Sherlock took the photo of Molly that had been taken by a security camera at Buckingham Palace and folded it in half.

"Has the facial recognition software been fixed?" he said.

"I'm not sure, actually. Why don't you go down and see the Q-Branch?" she said. "How is the case doing, by the way?"

"It's going terribly. I'll see you soon, mother," he said as he went out the door. She let out a sigh and merely shook her head. Her son was such an oddball sometimes.

Meanwhile, Sherlock went down to the basement floor and walked into a room filled with people working on computers. At the center of a room was a young man with a head of messy brown curls and a pair of glasses on his nose. He looked a lot like Sherlock, even down to the same blue-green eyes. This was Quentin Holmes, Sherlock's younger brother. He was the youngest out of the three of the Holmes boys Sherlock got along better with him than he did with Mycroft.

"Hello, little brother. It looks like you're doing well," Sherlock said. The man turned around and Sherlock gave him a disarming smile.

"What is it this time?" he said warily.

"Quentin, I need to use yo-" Sherlock said.

"I go by Q now," he said, giving him a dirty look. "Don't call me that name around my employees."

"So you're the boss here? Well done, little brother. Mother must be quite proud," he said. Q rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest.

"What are you here for, Sherlock?" he said.

"I need you to find this woman. Use the CCTV feed from around London to find her flat," Sherlock said as he pulled out the photograph of Molly.

"She's a pretty one. Is she one of your current pursuits, Sherlock?" Q said.

"That is irrelevant. I just need you to find out where she lives," Sherlock replied.

"So you're stalking her, then. Is that what this is all about?" Q said.

"It's for my current case," he said.

"Ah, that Miss Moriarty case I keep hearing about. It's like a twisted little game, from what I can gather. Does mum have any knowledge of this?" he said.

"She does, to some extent. It's not strictly official," he said.

"I should tell you that we haven't exactly repaired the facial recognition software. We've repaired most of the damage from the first virus attack and we're almost done repairing the lines of code but it should be done in a few days," Q said.

"How long is a few days?" Sherlock said.

"One or two. I'll take another look at it later today," he said offhandedly.

"I need this done as soon as possible." Sherlock said.

"Why? Can't you see I'm busy, Sherlock?" Q said, looking annoyed.

"Look, Quentin, the game ends in one of us dying. It's either her or me. I'm trying to make it so that neither of us dies. That's why I need this done soon," he said in a low voice. Q could feel the urgency in Sherlock's tone and realized why this mattered so much to his older brother.

"The enemy, Miss Moriarty, is close to you, isn't she?" he muttered.

"Exactly," he said.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do. I'll text you when I get something," Q said. Sherlock thanked him and made his way out of the building.

He was hoping that Quentin could find Molly's home soon, so he could talk with her. Sherlock headed home to try and think of ways to end this in a different way. He knew exactly how the game ended and he sincerely hoped that she wouldn't kill herself, like Jim had. Sherlock lay down on the couch and put his hands into a prayer-like position and began to think.

He sat there for hours, thinking of ways to keep her alive. Sherlock wanted nothing more than to have her alive, not dead. However, if she decided not to end her life and handed herself over, then she would be taken to jail and possibly be put on the death row, which would basically nullify his efforts. Technically, she would also still be the leader of the Moriarty family and he was sure that they would also be angry at her for losing their game. She would most likely suffer horrible consequences for doing so and the best option at the moment was to help her arrange her death like she had helped him fake his. Sherlock sat up and grabbed his phone to send her a text message.

**We need to talk. This is urgent.**

**-SH**

He waited several minutes but no reply came from her. Sherlock hoped that she hasn't seen it and was merely ignoring it. However, after one hour, he knew that she was ignoring him.

**Molly, I can help you. Just let me do it.**

**-SH**

_I've made up my mind._

_-M_

**Please.**

**-SH**

_I'm sorry._

_-M_

And with that, he didn't receive any more text messages. Sherlock tried to call her but she didn't pick up at all. He let out a shout of frustration and began shooting violently at the wall. Sherlock's feeling had worsened and he was almost certain now that she would end it the way Jim had.

He put his head in his hands and collapsed wearily on the couch, where he fell asleep. There was a mixture of fear and anguish in the pit of his stomach and he dreaded the day that would come.

**_(The next morning...)_**

**(A/N: Start up Never Say Never!)**

The day of reckoning had come.

It was the day the game would end. Sherlock had woken up that morning to rain and thunder and his heart felt heavy. If she wanted to act soon, then it would happen sometime today. He was seated at the table with a carton of milk when his cellphone rang and he saw that it was a text from Molly.

_The coordinates._

_-M_

_What about the coordinates_, Sherlock wondered. However, it didn't end there. A few minutes later he got another text that were quite as odd as the first.

_Adăuga and împărți._

_-M_

**What are you talking about?**

**-SH**

He sat there and waited for a reply but she didn't text him back. Was she ignoring him? He took out a piece of paper and wrote down each coordinate in the order that they had been found. The numbers were coming into play now and he wondered what they would mean. On the side of the page, he wrote the words she had sent to him.

What was adăuga and împărți? Sherlock looked at the foreign words and opened up the Internet app. He searched for the words on Google and found that they were Romanian. Of course they would be! He searched for the meaning and saw that they meant add and divide. So it was a math thing then.

But which combination would he add and divide to get what she wanted? He tried adding the latitude and longitudes and dividing by the number of murders but that gave him an odd looking number. What was he even supposed to be looking for?

**Look, what kind of answer am I looking for?**

**-SH**

_You'll know it's right when you see it. Meet me there in one hour._

_-M_

He let out a sigh of frustration and set down his phone. Sherlock tried a different variety of combinations and input the final coordinate into the computer. They led to places that didn't make any sense and he knew that those weren't right. Sherlock glanced at the clock and let out a frustrated sigh. He had already wasted thirty minutes on this!

Finally, he tried adding up all the latitude coordinates alone and then dividing by five. He did the same with the longitudinal coordinates and came out with a final answer of 51.5172648 and -0.10018430. Sherlock put the coordinates in his computer and waited for the answer to appear. His heart nearly stopped when he realized where exactly those numbers were at.

They were directly at St. Bart's.

Of course! Even before the game had started, she knew that they would have to confront each other somewhere. That would be the final confrontation, where the entire game would end. What better place to do it than the roof of St. Bartholomew's Hospital?

It was such a simple math trick, one that would be so easy that even the police would overlook it. Only Sherlock would figure it out and it would lead him to the last location. She had wanted it to be for him alone. What better way to do that than to kill yourself in the same way that he almost did? It was ironic but it was perfect.

He sprang out of his chair and threw on his clothes. Sherlock had only about twenty minutes left and he ran out the door and flagged down a cab. He jumped in and threw £20 at the cab driver.

"Take me to St. Bartholomew's Hospital as fast as you can," he said. They sped off and he feared for the worst. The cab driver noted Sherlock's urgent tone and tried to avoid traffic as much as possible. He glanced back at him in the rear view mirror and saw his strained expression.

"What's got you in such a hurry? Trying to avert a crisis or something?" he said. Sherlock looked up to meet the driver's brown eyes and was silent for a while.

"You don't exactly move slow when you're trying to prevent someone from making a horrible mistake," he said dryly.

"So, I'm guessing this is about a woman. That's what most things are about. You love her, then?" the cabbie said.

"Why would you like to know?" Sherlock said warily.

"I don't know. Maybe it's good to know why I'm speeding down the road for one of my customers," he said. "Look, what is at stake? Why does she matter?"

"Her life hangs in the balance and I can't let her go. I...care for her too much," Sherlock said quietly. They took several turns and the cab driver fell silent. He was approaching St. Bart's and Sherlock was ready to get out.

"So you love her that much, don't you?" the cab driver said. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he thought this cabbie was being too nosy for his liking. They stopped in front of the building and the man looked back at Sherlock, who was getting out of the car. He rolled down the front window, causing Sherlock to stop for a moment.

"Go, then. Try and stop her," he said. The man flashed Sherlock a grin that only he would recognize and he sped off, leaving Sherlock standing in the street.

Was that who he thought it was?

He shook his head and focused on the more pressing matter at hand. Sherlock stood on the sidewalk across from St. Bart's and dialed Molly's number. He listened to the tone and hoped she would pick up.

**_(Meanwhile, with Molly...)_**

Molly sat on a brick wall on top of St. Bart's. She had prepared everything and she had decided that she was ready to jump off of St. Bart. Molly knew that she would have to meet her end, in one way or the other. She didn't want to fake her death because she knew that even if she was alive, she wouldn't have much left to live on and she would be miserable. Molly could not bear to be around anyone else anymore and it would be the only way. She knew what was coming and was ready to suffer for her sins. Her phone suddenly buzzed and she saw that it was a call from Sherlock.

"Where are you?" Sherlock said. Molly smiled slightly and stood up. She hoisted herself up and walked onto the ledge.

"Look up for me." Molly said softly. He was on the other side of the road and he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her figure standing there. There was silence and he finally spoke.

"Oh no. Molly, stop this right now. This is too much now," he said. There was pain in his voice and her eyes began to fill with tears.

"You and I both know that it has to end like this. The game's been like that for centuries. It will be over the moment I hit the concrete. I have to die," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Molly, I can help you. Please, just let me-" Sherlock began.

"No!" she said, her voice quivering. "I have to pay for my sins somehow, Sherlock."

"I don't believe there's anything good inside of me anymore. I've turned into a true Moriarty, a monster. It's not...what I want to be. I never wanted to be like this. I just got caught up in the game," she choked out. The tears began to fall, rolling wet tracks down her cheeks.

"Why did you let this happen to you?" he said.

"The request in my father's will could not go unobeyed. He wanted me to take over if Jim died. If I didn't, then everyone in the family had permission to kill me. I only followed their orders because I didn't want to die. I knew that if I died, they would kill you too. I took the job because I thought there was a way I could keep you from getting killed, if only for a little bit. I was the queen of something I was never meant to rule and now that everything is crumbling I realize that I just got a little carried away," she said, letting out a weary laugh.

"You...would be killed by your own family? Molly, you should have said something!" he snapped.

"I've been sworn to secrecy. I know that if I did say something and the job fails then there are worse things waiting for me the moment I get home. Besides, it's too late to help me now. I'm beyond the point of saving," she said with tears streaming down her face.

"I'm so sorry for everything I've done, Sherlock. I've lied, stolen, and killed to survive. When I die, please tell everyone that the game is over," she said. Molly saw him try to cross the street and she stepped back a little.

"Please, stay right there. I can't..." she said, her voice trembling. A sob shook Molly's body and she tried not to cry anymore than she already had.

"Molly...don't let it end like this. Please. I don't know what I would do if you died. I care about you too much. I don't even care about what happened. I still love you and that won't change," he said. So he did love her! Those words sparked some joy in her heart but she felt even more heartbreaking remorse for what she was going to do. She was trying so hard not to fall apart right now but her emotions were betraying her.

"Sherlock, I...love you with all of my heart and I'm truly sorry for all of this," Molly said softly, "I don't care about what happened with Irene or anything that people say about you. I really do love you and no one will ever change my mind."

"What you said is right, you know. Love is a chemical defect found on the losing side. So, congratulations. You've beaten me. You've won," she continued, with a note of finality in her voice.

"Molly, please. Don't do this to me. I love you too much to let you go," he said, with pain in his voice.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"For what?"

"For saying that you love me. I've never wanted to hear something so much in my life. But, that also makes this so hard to do," she said, letting out a shaky laugh.

"Don't jump then," he replied.

"I can't. I'm so sorry. Goodbye, Sherlock. I love you," she said. Molly tossed the phone aside and she saw Sherlock trying to run across the street. Molly leaned on her toes and threw herself off the roof. She felt her body twist in the air and she stared up at the sky. Molly let go of everything and closed her eyes. She finally felt peaceful and weightless, letting go of all her fears. It would be all over. She didn't struggle but she felt her body instinctively trying to right itself. Molly didn't try to correct it and her feet were the first to hit the harsh concrete. She felt herself fall back on her bottom and her back and head were the last to hit the ground. Molly felt pain all over her body and she soon gave in to the peaceful darkness.

Sherlock was there, but he had come only seconds too late. He saw her lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood with her legs bent in odd angles and she truly looked dead. Sherlock knelt down and tried to feel for a pulse or a heartbeat but the paramedics pulled him away.

"Let me go!" he shouted. Sherlock broke free and followed them as they brought her inside the hospital. They entered the operating room and the nurses stopped him from going in.

**(A/N: Start playing What Sarah Said!)**

"We're going to work on her and see what we can do. Please, stay out here," the nurse said.

"Let me see her," Sherlock said. There was urgency in his voice but she would not let him pass. He was left alone in the waiting room and he put his head in his hands. No one saw the single tear that rolled down his face and the ones that followed. He was falling apart now and he dealt with knowing that he probably watched her die.

Sherlock stayed at the hospital all day, despite the protests of the nurses. They had finished doing the best they could and he paced quietly in the waiting room, bracing himself for the worst. Sherlock feared that Molly would never come back to him. For once, he was afraid of someone's death. Sherlock realized that a waiting room was really just a place where people waited for bad news. He didn't believe in a God, but he silently prayed to someone up there that she would be alright.

Finally, the doctor came out with a weary expression on his face. Sherlock went to him and immediately asked what had been on his mind for hours. "Is she alright?" he said.

"It depends on how you define alright. She's alive, at least. Molly's in the ICU," he said.

"May I see her?" Sherlock said quietly.

"Well, she's not in the best cond-"

"Let me see her. Please," he said, his voice filled with pain. The doctor felt a little pity for him and let out a sigh.

"She's in room 185," he said. Sherlock immediately went down the hall and he went into the ICU to find her room. He spotted it and went in. What he would find, however, was a different side of Molly that he had never wished to see.

She lay there, looking broken and absolutely pitiful. Molly's leg was elevated and most of her body was in a cast. Her breathing was irregular and he couldn't bear to see her like this. Each descending peak on the LCD took Molly a little farther away from Sherlock. He knew that he couldn't be in this room for too long and Sherlock kissed her gently on the forehead.

"You didn't have to end it this way, Molly," he murmured. Sherlock said goodbye to her for the night and knew that he would come back tomorrow.

When he came back into the room the next day, he found that he was not alone. A woman was there, along with a familiar brown haired man. It was Sebastian and he assumed the woman was Molly's mother. He didn't enter but stood next to the door to listen.

"-ook at what you've driven her to do! You killed my baby!" the woman screamed.

"This was her choice," he replied stoically.

"You forced her to play this game. You tainted her and now, she's gone and attempted suicide! If you hadn't told her all those lies, then maybe she would have never done all of this!" she shouted.

"Aunt Maria, for god's sake, be rational! You can't just blame me alone! It was also the others who drove her to this. Besides, it was your husband that started all of this-"

"Don't talk about him!" she screamed. Sebastian immediately shut up and the woman began to cry.

"Oh, Charlie, look what you've driven your daughter to do. All just to keep this stupid little empire of yours alive..." she sobbed. Sherlock saw Sebastian storm out of the room and he didn't seem to notice Sherlock. He went inside quietly and saw her crying at her daughter's bedside. She looked up and wiped her eyes at the sound of Sherlock approaching. Her eyes flickered with light, like she had remembered something important.

"Sorry, are you...Sherlock Holmes?" she said.

"Yes. I...knew Molly. You must be her mother," he said quietly as he shook her hand. She nodded and wiped at her tears.

"Ah, she used to talk about quite a bit. She loved you a lot, you know," he said.

"I knew that," Sherlock replied.

"Did you love her too, young man?" she said sternly. Maria looked at him intently and he just nodded.

"I love her. That's why I was there. I tried to stop her but she was dead set on throwing herself off the roof," he muttered.

"Bless your heart, then. It looks like she chose well," the woman murmured. The door opened suddenly and a doctor walked in with a clipboard in his arms. He gave them a careful smile and sat down in the chair.

"What news do you have, Dr. Morrison?" she said.

"Your daughter was lucky, Mrs. Hooper. She was committing suicide but her actions unknowingly saved her," he said. Sherlock was a little glad to hear that Molly still went by Hooper because it would make things considerably less complicated.

"How?" she said, looking confused.

"She survived because she was relaxed upon hitting the ground. If her muscles had been tense, the body would have transferred force more directly to the vital organs. Molly instinctively tried to right herself in midair and her feet were the first to touch the concrete. That absorbed worst of the shock. From what we've examined, she fell onto her back but her head attained the least of the injuries, since it was the last to hit the ground. However, that's only the good news," the doctor said.

"What's the bad news?"

"She's got quite the list of injuries. Molly shattered her left foot, broke both of her legs, cracked two ribs, and cracked her hip joint. She may suffer a little internal bleeding to the spleen and kidneys but all of that will heal in time," the doctor said. "However..."

"What?" she said worriedly.

**_"She is in a coma."_**

* * *

How did you do? I don't know about you but when I typed this, I was hit by feels. It was horrible! I was driving home about two days ago and I was listening to an old Death Cab For Cutie CD and I heard that song. I quite literally burst into tears. I had to pull over. That's how I decided to use some songs in here.

Anyway, that's it for now! We are nearing the end and I guess that kind of makes me sad. I might get the next chapter up by Friday so stick around for that!

-uniquename200


	13. Chapter 12: Waking Up

Hey guys! I posted this at around 12 in the morning and I kinda feel bad for missing the date by **FIFTEEN MINUTES**! But anyway, thank you so much for all of the reviews and I'm glad you liked the last chapter. There are two more chapters left but we're nearing the end. Oh my goodness, this is scary! What will I do now? Just kidding, I have a plan!

Anyway, enjoy your read! :)

**Disclaimer**: _I don't own Sherlock, just this story_.

* * *

Six months had passed from the incident at St. Bart's. Those months had seemed like an eternity to Sherlock but life had gone on for everyone else. Mary and John became proud parents to William Watson, their newborn son. He was a quiet little boy that seemed to be quite fond of Sherlock, who had been appointed as his new godfather. Lestrade ended up taking the position of Chief Superintendent since Oliver had died. He still handled cases in his spare time. and he even made consulting detective a legitimate job. Sherlock worked for Scotland Yard and he had somewhat reverted back to his semi-normal life. trying to. That was a little hard to do, since he thought about Molly all the time. Sherlock tried to avoid talking about the game at all costs they played but that was impossible with John.

John was the only one who knew about all of this. Even Mary didn't know that Molly was the culprit for the case. Sherlock told him after John found out that Molly was in the hospital. He made him swear not to tell anyone else what really happened and at first, John was shocked. When Sherlock had told him the whole story, he could understand why she had to do what she did and found that he didn't think badly of her. However, his view of her wasn't the same as it was before. John saw how hard it was for him, dealing with all of this. Sherlock was over-working himself to keep his mind off the thought of Molly leaping off of St. Bart's to end the game and also, to keep him safe. Molly and Sherlock had a strange relationship towards one another but John knew that it didn't matter. They were perfect with each other and they knew it. That was all he cared about.

After she had jumped and landed herself in the hospital, Mycroft finally heard everything from Sherlock firsthand and he saw how much his brother loved this woman. Normally, he wouldn't give two shits about any of this but he knew that if Molly woke up and the MI6 and Lestrade knew that she was Miss Moriarty, then she would be jailed immediately. That probably wouldn't sit well with Sherlock and Mycroft sought to fix things to the fullest of his extent because he knew what Molly was really like and how the Moriarty family had changed her for the worse. Besides, he knew that she would beat herself up over this every day. Molly was that kind of person, who would deeply regret her wrongdoings. She was the kind of girl who would probably torture herself over this day by day. Hell, she had jumped off a building in an attempt to pay for her sins and had the scars to prove it. That seemed like enough punishment.

Mycroft had told their mother and Lestrade that the game was over and that their culprit was unknown. When they had asked why this was so, he claimed that Miss Moriarty had jumped off the Tower Bridge and her body more or less exploded from the force of hitting the water. The body parts were washed down the Thames and he was even able to supply a couple of arms and legs. Sherlock had thanked him for all of this quite graciously but had asked if there was some ulterior motive to all of this. He promised that there wasn't and the relationship between the two brothers became a little better than it was before.

Despite Molly's attempted suicide, the Moriarty Network was still up and functioning. She had attempted to destroy it before she jumped by deleting all the files from her iPhone. However, they had obtained a copy of all the data from the phone's developer in Germany and were able to recover the lost files. Sherlock had heard nothing from them at the moment but he had figured that the fact that he had won the game twice didn't sit well with the Moriarty family. He had hoped they would stay away from her but that was highly unlikely, which was correct.

Maria, Molly's mother, had temporarily taken the leadership position for the sake of her daughter and she had more or less attempted to make everyone to leave Sherlock and Molly alone. However, they weren't letting her go so easily. They had gone on a majority vote and decided that if Molly didn't wake up, then they would find a new boss. If she did wake up and refuse to be the boss, they would kill her because that's what was in Charles Moriarty's will. It was complete bullshit but Maria knew why they were doing this. It was because they knew that she completely hated what the Moriarty family did. They wanted to be difficult with her because they were trying to make her conform to their system.

The only reason Sherlock knew about this was because Maria would would drop by Baker Street every now and then. Sherlock was a little glad to find that she did not disapprove of him, despite the fact that he was the very man who had been the motivation behind Jim's death and Molly's attempted suicide. Maria actually liked him a lot and thought that he would make a fine son-in-law.

If her daughter would wake up, of course.

Sherlock had decided that everything would be fine and all he had to do was wait for Molly to wake up. For now, all he had to do was go on with his life and stay away from the rest of the Moriarty family.

He would come by the hospital every day and visit Molly for a little while. Sherlock would sit quietly beside her and occasionally talk about what was going on. The fact that she didn't reply didn't bother him and he visited her virtuously, never missing a day. Sometimes he would bring her flowers. On other days, he would just sit there in silence. Whenever he walked into the room, he felt his heart beat a little quicker. Sherlock always hoped to see her sitting there, wide awake and waiting for him.

It was a sunny July afternoon and he sat quietly at the edge of her bed. Lately, he had felt his hope fading, like a candle being extinguished. He wasn't sure how long it would take for her to wake up but he hoped it was soon. Sherlock had never realized how torturous the waiting game could be until now. He looked at her beautiful face and he traced the scar on the side of her forehead with his thumb. It had once been something quite hurtful to look at but faded into a pale white line. She had healed from her injuries and was perfectly fine, but the scars remained and would probably stay with her for as long as she lived. Sherlock looked at her once more and let out a dismayed sigh. He took his hand from her face and stood up to leave. It wouldn't happen today.

"I'll see you again tomorrow," he said as he gave her a kiss on the forehead. Sherlock left a fresh bouquet of flowers in the vase beside her and made his way out of the room. He felt a little disappointed but knew that it was alright. It was wrong for him to expect that she would wake up just like that.

But it was never wrong to hope.

That night, it was dead silent in that wing of the hospital. The nurses were doing their daily rounds but eventually quit since it was 11:19 in the evening. None of them saw the young woman in room 216 stirring. Molly shifted in the bed before finally opening her eyes for the first time in six months.

The world flooded into focus and she saw the moonlight streaming in from the window. The city lights reflected off the glass and the room was silent, save for the soft hum of the machines and he sounds of the city below. Molly let out a breath of relief and leaned back in her bed. She wiggled her arms and legs and was a little surprised to see that they were all ok. Molly squeezed her arms and noticed how thin she had grown. She her legs off the side of the bed and stood up slowly. Mollywas off balance for a second but after walking in place for a bit, she felt the cramped feeling on her legs lessen until it was gone.

Molly looked outside and figured that it was late since she saw less traffic below her and heard no horns. What time was it? She saw that she was alone in the darkened room and she stretched, letting out a yawn. Molly looked outside again and came to the frightening realization that it didn't look like it was January. How long had she been asleep? She panicked and looked for anything that could help her get her bearings. Molly finally spotted the clipboard on the edge of the bed and she grabbed it quickly. It was dated for _**July 27, 2013**_. Molly almost dropped the board in surprise and she couldn't believe what she was seeing. It had felt so short for her.

"Was I really out for six months?" she thought. Molly began to panic and she wanted to know what had happened while she was comatose. Did the Moriarty Network get destroyed? If not, who was the boss now? How was her mother?

Most of all, was Sherlock ok?

She remembered what had happened and Molly could not bear to think of what he felt like after he saw her jump. It must have been horrible and she felt so bad for everything that happened. Molly assumed that people knew that she was Miss Moriarty and she believed that everyone would look at her with disgust and scorn. She couldn't take that. Molly was afraid to see them and she was completely fine with going away for a while. London was constricting her and she needed to get out to think and also to pay properly for her sins.

Molly had only been awake for a little while but it didn't go unnoticed. Moments later, a nurse rushed into the room and she stared at Molly. "Oh, you're awake! How are you feeling, Miss Hooper?" she said.

"Fine, actually," Molly said as she shifted in her bed.

"Do you need anything? I'll contact someone, if you like," she said as she picked up the clipboard on the edge of the bed.

"Please don't say anything to anyone yet!" Molly said hurriedly. The nurse raised an eyebrow in question and Molly let out a fake-sounding laugh.

"I'd like to be alone for now," she added. The nurse merely shrugged and made her way out of the room. Molly leaned back in the bed and later, the nurse came back with some food. She ate quietly and inspected the room. Molly saw a bouquet of flowers in a vase on the table and wondered who they were from. She didn't feel like sleeping and sat quietly for a long time, attempting to make a plan.

At around three, she fell asleep and woke up again four hours later. She jolted upright when she heard the sound of the door squeaking open. Molly looked around and she saw a man walk in. Their eyes locked and her eyes flickered with a spark of recognition. He gave her a familiar grin and spoke before she could say anything.

"Hello, Molly," he said.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" she said.

"Such a shame. You really don't recognize me?" the man drawled. Molly stared at him for a long time and finally realized who exactly stood in front of her.

"You've cut your hair, Jim," she spat out.

"You sound angry, Molly. Might I ask why?" he said innocently.

"I was the one who performed your autopsy, you dirty bastard! How have you been alive this whole time without my knowledge?" she snapped.

"It's not hard, sister dear. You can make a duo of yourself through methods of facial surgery and brainwashing," Jim said with a shrug.

"How did you know I was awake? Why did you leave this all for me? You could have just as easily come back and maybe, this all wouldn't be happeni-" Molly began.

"I knew you were awake because I have people here keeping an eye on you. I was alerted immediately when you woke up. And by the way, I stayed dead because that game got boring. I've started a new game, mind you. Different rules, different players. Or rather, player," he replied.

"With who?"

"The woman," he said with a slight smile on his face. "And by woman, I assume you know who I'm talking about."

"Irene Adler. How fitting. You two are perfect for each other," she said dryly. "But still, why didn't you find me and tell me you were alive? You abandoned me!"

"If I did, you would force the leadership position back to me. Besides, I didn't abandon you. I've been following you quite a lot, actually," he said.

"Wait, what?"

"I was the one who drove you to the Diogenes Club a while ago. The next time was after your scene at Buckingham Palace. By the way, that was pretty impressive," Jim said, with a hint of pride in his voice.

"What else?" Molly said.

"I drove Sherlock and John to the Orpheus Club. I was the man who kidnapped you and tried to dissuade you from your actions. I also drove Sherlock here when you jumped off the roof. I've been keeping an eye on you this whole time. Mother would be proud," he said.

"Why did you use the cab driver disguise so frequently?" she said, sounding puzzled.

"It was the most convenient disguise," Jim replied.

"Oh...ok," Molly said softly. Moments later, she decided to ask him another question, one that had been on her mind for hours. "Have you talked with Sherlock at all?" she said hesitantly.

"The only time I talked to him was when I drove him to St. Bart's when you were going to jump," he said.

"What do you think of him?" Molly asked.

"I don't exactly like him but it doesn't take a genius to see that you two are made for each other," he scoffed. "I know he's in love with you, so I'm not going to interfere."

"By the way, what will you do about your leadership position of the Moriarty network?" he continued.

"I'll quit," she said bravely.

"It doesn't work that easily. They've come to a final agreement. If you don't wake up, they're leaving you and finding a new boss. If you do wake up (which you have) and you refuse, then they'll kill you because it was written in father's will. They'll also kill Sherlock too. Mother has taken over temporarily but if they do find out that you're awake then you're in big trouble," he said.

"Why can't you just take the position?" Molly demanded.

"I don't want to. It's too much work. I have a life of my own, Molly," Jim said. She glared at him and he just shrugged.

"What would you suggest?" she said.

"I don't know. You could always fake your death again. That would take you out of the running for the boss job for good. They would finally leave you alone then. But I'm sure that would drive Sherlock to the point of insanity," he said with a chuckle.

"I just need to find some way to tell him I'm alive then," she said.

"Do what I did, then. I'll find you a body double. Hang yourself with the bedsheets or something," he said.

"That sounds like an acceptable plan. How long does it take?" Molly said.

"Three days, at most," Jim said.

"Ok...well, wait, why are you helping me?" she said.

"I know what you're like, Molly. This job was never meant for you. You took all of the cues. You staked your decisions on their threat and look at what happened to you. They tainted my sweet little sister. Think of it like this. You were like a rabbit ruling over a pack of lions. I don't want you to deal with this anymore and I don't want to rob you a shot at a relationship," Jim said with a snort. "Besides, you're not dead yet. Live life while you can."

"So...you're just doing it because you want me to be happy? To be how I was before?" Molly said.

"Of course," he replied.

"No ulterior motives?" she said suspiciously.

"None at all. I'm your brother, Molly. I don't do that sort of thing," he said.

"Somehow, I can't quite believe you," she muttered.

"Molly, it's ok. I swear, I'm not doing this for anything," Jim said exasperatedly. They sat in silence for a while and Molly finally gave him a small smile.

"You've changed, you know," she said softly.

"How?"

"You're not as...unhinged as you were before. That must be because of Irene, isn't it?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he replied.

"Love changes people, Jim. She's made you into a more bearable human being," she teased.

"You just wanted an excuse to tell me that I'm getting soft," he said with a chuckle.

"That's actually true. But I'm not kidding when I say that love has changed you for the better," Molly said.

"Well then, I can't wait to see what it'll do to you," he said as he stood up. "Anyway, I'll get everything situated. I'll get mother to see you before this happens. See you later, Molly."

"Jim?" she said hesitantly. He turned to face her with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" he replied.

"Thank you. I mean it," she said.

"No problem. I'll have the nurses move you to the ICU so no one will see that you're awake. I'll be here in three days. Goodbye, Molly," he said. She said goodbye to him and was left alone once more in the room.

About an hour later, the nurse came into the room. "Miss Hooper, I'm supposed to move you to room 181 in the ICU at the request of your brother," she said.

"I don't see a problem with that," Molly said. The nurse told her to pretend to be in a comatose state and she wheeled her through the hospital on a stretcher. They were almost there when they heard a shout from behind them.

"Wait a minute! Where are you going with that body?" a voice said. Molly recognized it as John's and she heard someone following him, who she assumed was Sherlock.

"Miss Hooper had an emergency operation last night. Her liver was having trouble last night and we think it might have been caused by her medication. She'll be resting in the ICU for a few days. I'm afraid that visitors aren't allowed," the nurse said smoothly.

"Will she be alright?" Sherlock said.

"She will be fine with a few days of peace and quiet, Mr. Holmes," she said. The nurse began to wheel the stretcher forward and she took another turn. They finally arrived at the room and Molly opened her eyes.

"Thank you," she said.

"It's not a problem. Please rest here for a few days," the woman said, turning to leave.

"Wait!" Molly said. She turned around and Molly wrung her hands nervously.

"Um, do you know how frequently Sherlock visits me?" she asked.

"He visits you every single day. Sometimes, he'll bring flowers. He's never misses a day. It seems that he loves you quite a lot, Miss Hooper," she said. Molly nodded and the nurse left her in silence. She heard the door lock and she stayed there, thinking about what the nurse said. It was nice to know that Sherlock still cared about her but knowing that would make it harder to leave. She was scared to fake her death because she know how badly that would affect him. However, she knew that she would have to do it if she wanted the Moriarty family to leave her alone for good.

She stayed at the hospital for two days, getting everything ready for her escape. Molly's mother was overjoyed when she found out both of her children were alive. She had dropped by to give her everything that she would need to start a new life. Molly had been given a new cellphone, new government documents, and a completely different passport. She had a one way ticket from London to Paris. Molly would drive to Nuremberg, Germany, where she would for three days. After that, she would drive all the way to Prague, in the Czech Republic. She would be there again for a few days and then she would drive Bratislava, Slovakia. After resting for three days, she would go to Budapest and finally to Bucharest, Romania to ensure that she wasn't going to be trailed. It was a lot of driving but she knew that she couldn't fly a lot since she might be followed Molly had confided in her mother that she would stay in Bucharest, in her mom's childhood home. Jim had gotten ahold of a woman for the body double and had a renowned doctor from Switzerland turn her into Molly. Everything was ready to go and Molly sincerely hoped that everything would be alright.

**_(July 30th, 2013- 11:13 AM)_**

Molly stood in front of the mirror inside the hospital room, adjusting her hat. She had her bag on one shoulder and her papers in the other. She looked at the body double, that was hanging from a bar on the back of the door. She had a makeshift noose made out of bedsheets around her neck and the woman was dead. It was scary to her because the woman looked exactly like her. Molly hoped she would never have to see another person dead because of her and she silently thanked the woman for dealing with this. She opened the window and put her foot on the brick outside of the building. She climbed carefully to the other window, that had been opened for her. She went out the door and kept her head down as she walked out of the hospital. Molly stood on the sidewalk and got into the black car that was waiting for her.

"Good morning, Miss Hooper," the driver began.

"I just go by Molly now, thank you," she said, with an apologetic smile gracing her features.

"Alright, Miss Molly. Where to?"

"Heathrow Airport, please," she said. The driver nodded and she began her trip to Bucharest. She went through the airport and she handed them her passport, which was under the name "Elizabeth Thomas". Molly had chosen this alias since Elizabeth was the English equivalent of her middle name, Elizaveta, and Thomas was the middle name of her father. It was the simplest and most generic name she could make, so it was the one she would take.

The man at the counter glanced at her briefly before letting her through to get on the flight to Paris. She went through Heathrow's numerous gates and terminals before finally arriving at gate D5. Her flight was in about a half-hour, so she sat at a bench and stared at the landscape outside.

After being called to board the flight, she sat in her seat on the airplane. Molly looked outside at the rainy city. There was fog covering the runway and the weather accurately mirrored her emotions. As the plane took off, she couldn't help but feel regret for what Sherlock would find in the hospital room. Molly knew he loved her but she had to do this to keep him safe. The last thing she wanted to happen was to have him die at the hands of the Moriarty family. Molly looked at London once more before closing her eyes and she prepared for the long journey ahead of her.

**_(Meanwhile, at St. Bart's...)_**

It was utter chaos, to say the least.

Molly's body had been found hanging on the back of the door by Sherlock himself. He had gone there to visit her today but had found her corpse instead. She had committed suicide by hanging herself with a makeshift noose made out of the blankets from the bed. It had nearly scared him to death when he turned around and stared into her bloodless face.

It was an understatement to say that he was devastated. Sherlock had waited for her to wake up for so long and when she finally did, she had killed herself for real. He was filled with grief and he sat in the room, feeling like his heart had been run over by a truck. Molly's body was left on the bed and it would be taken away in a little bit to the morgue. Maria came inside and she held a letter in her hands.

"This is for you, Sherlock. My daughter left you a note," she said softly. Apart from her red-rimmed eyes, Maria seemed quite unaffected. That struck him as a little odd. He expected her to be in hysterics, based from what he had seen when Molly had first attempted suicide. Sherlock tried to ignore it and opened the envelope anyway.

_Dear Sherlock,_

_I'm so sorry for everything that you've had to go through because of me. There was no way I could avoid dying. If I didn't die and I refused to work for the Moriarty family, they would kill both of us. That's the last thing that I want to happen and I just wanted to keep you safe. Just forget about me, ok? I...hope you can find someone normal who can keep you happy and loves you as much as I do. I'm really sorry and I love you._

_Goodbye._

_-Molly_

Sherlock stared blankly at the letter. He didn't know what to do or what to say. Molly was gone for good and there was nothing that he could have done to save her. Sherlock collapsed in the chair and he put his head in his hands. Maria sat next to him and put a soothing hand on his back. Sherlock was not crying, however. He was just upset. They sat in silence together until she had to be called off to sign some legal papers. Sherlock let out a sigh and he heard someone walking in.

"What's going on?" a voice said. Sherlock looked up and his eyes narrowed when he saw the man approaching. He recognized him as the man that drove him to St. Bart's. Based on the things he had said, Sherlock knew that this was definitely Jim Moriarty.

"Jim. What are you doing here?" Sherlock said coldly.

"I needed to see her. Looks like I was too late," Jim said.

"Hmm. How did you live, after our little game?" he said.

"I'm not stupid. I knew you were going to fake your death too so I used facial surgery to make a body double of me. It was good enough to fool Molly," Jim said with a twinge of pride. "By the way, does this all upset you?"

"Why wouldn't it?" Sherlock snapped.

"I was just checking to see how much you loved my little sister," he said.

"And does that bother you, that I care for her?" Sherlock said as he went over to Molly. He was looking at her face for the last time and wondering what he would have to do now.

"I don't quite approve of you but it isn't hard to see that you two are a good match. I won't interfere with something that'll make her happy," Jim said with a shrug.

Sherlock cleared a hair from her face and he noticed something that surprised him. The pale scar on the left side of her forehead was gone. He quickly inspected the rest of her and noticed two scars behind her ears. All the air went out of Sherlock's lungs when he realized what this meant.

"This isn't Molly," he said with a note of finality. Jim's eyes flickered with amusement and he let out a soft chuckle.

"It took you so little time to notice. I'm kind of impressed. How did you do it?" Jim said.

"You said that last sentence in present tense. That made me suspicious but what really gave it away was her face. There are two scars behind her ears and the scar on her forehead is gone. You probably used someone else's body and did some facial surgery. Now, judging from the way Mrs. Moriarty is acting, she was in on this too. With you, right?" Sherlock said.

"You've got it. So, I assume you're going to go hunt her down," he said.

"What, do you know where she went?" Sherlock said.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. You love her quite a bit, so I'm assuming that it won't be hard. If you do find her and end up with her, however, I want you to treat her better than you did to Irene," Jim said, as his eyes darkened.

"Ah, so you're with her now? That makes sense, now that I look at it," Sherlock muttered.

"True. But, I will tell you something that might offer you some consolation," Jim said as he stood up to leave.

"And what would that be?"

"Molly's always been horrible at hide-and-seek. It won't be hard for you to find her," he said as he walked out, leaving Sherlock alone in the room.

* * *

That's all I have for this chapter! I really hoped you liked it and I also hope you enjoyed the shit that went down in this chapter. I probably won't get the next one up until maybe **Thursday** so don't forget to check it out!

Anyway, don't forget to review and I hope you are enjoying Miss Moriarty!

-**uniquename200**


	14. Chapter 13: An Unexpected Reunion

So, are you all ready for the mind-blowing news I'm about to tell you?** This is the second to last chapter and in my opinion, ONE OF THE BEST. **I thank you for all your reviews (seriously, **YOU GUYS KICK ASS**) and I hope you stick around for the next chapter!

**Disclaimer: **_I am the proud owner of Miss Moriarty. Just not Sherlock._

* * *

**(November 30, 2013- 8:15 AM)**

Four months had passed from her second supposed death and Molly was now hiding out in the large city of Bucharest. She was staying in her mother's old house in the Cotroceni District, on 14 Strada Costache Negri. Molly went by an alias and she was Elizabeth Thomas now, who worked independently on a research project for a medical company called BIOAXONE. However, her job was a little different. She was paid to research new medicines but she didn't work at regular hours and no one researched with her. Molly was basically alone in Bucharest and she really didn't make much contact with anyone except for her boss. Her current projects took place in a warehouse turned laboratory about a fifteen minute walk from her house.

And so, that day had begun like any other.

She woke up that morning to sunlight streaming in through the window and she sat at the table with a cup of coffee. Molly munched on some toast and prepared for the day ahead of her. She put her research papers in her backpack and picked up her cellphone, which was buzzing on the table. It was a text from her boss, Mikael.

_Miss Thomas,_

_I would like to meet you at noon for coffee at the Café Lautrec. We need to talk about your research._

_-Mikael Antonescu_

She leaned on the side of the counter and typed up a reply. Molly felt a little nervous but she tried to reassure herself by saying that it would be a good talk and not a bad talk. She put on a flowery print dress under her white lab coat. Molly put on her lace-up brown boots beneath a pair of sheer stockings and closed up the house. She walked to the bus stop and went off to go work before meeting Mikael.

In the laboratory, she examined the vials filled with the solutions of the new medicine she was testing. It would supposedly be a cure for accidental poisoning and she was beginning to make progress with it. Molly sat down at the microscope and recorded her observations. As usual, the experiments were not yielding the desired results and were producing more interesting reactions. Molly had been at this for a few months now and she still couldn't find a way to make the medicine potent enough to cure someone. However, her research was still quite fascinating.

After making a few more tests and writing equations on her vast army of whiteboards, she finally stepped away from the microscope and let out a sigh. She needed more time to see what would happen next but she thought that she was on the verge of potentially interesting development. Molly sat down and her mind drifted off to thoughts of her former job. Ah, how she missed pathology! She didn't have legal pathology certification for Romania, so she couldn't work at a hospital.

Molly checked her watch and began to make her way out of the warehouse. It was time to meet locked the doors behind her and took a taxi to the Café Lautrec. Molly walked into the restaurant and the waiter raised an eyebrow at her lab coat. She ignored his questioning stare and gave him a bright smile.

"Hello, I'm looking for a Mr. Antonescu," she said.

"I'll take you to him, miss," he said as he led her to a table in the back. She saw a man who had carefully combed black hair and a sharp grey suit. He stood up immediately when he saw her and Mikael smiled at her.

"It's lovely to see you, Mr. Antonescu," Molly said politely.

"Hello, Miss Thomas. It looks like you've just stepped straight out of the lab," he joked as they sat down. Molly let out a little laugh and the waiter came by again to take their order. She asked for a cup of espresso and Mikael ordered a steaming cup of mocha coffee. They made small talk before their coffee arrived.

"So, what did you need to talk with me about?" Molly said as she took a sip of her drink.

"Well, I'm afraid it's about your research. How are you doing on that, by the way?" Mikael said.

"I'm doing fine, actually. The medicine is still in the research stage and I'm looking at all the angles to ensure it's success," she said carefully.

"Hmm. Do you enjoy what you do, Miss Thomas?" he said.

"I do. Sir, what is this all about?" Molly said. She began to feel a little nervous because he was letting off a sort of "bad vibe", so to speak.

"I've received orders from our Board of Directors. They've requested that your research branch be shut down immediately," he said gravely. Molly stared at him incredulously and she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"You...you're firing me? But why?" she squeaked.

"It's the board's decision, not mine. I'm sorry," Mikael said. However, he didn't sound that sorry and seemed quite unaffected.

"At least give me a good reason why! Didn't the board tell you why they chose to shut down my branch?" Molly demanded.

"They...didn't tell me why. I asked but they refused to say anything. All they said was for you to leave immediately," he replied. She sensed something a little suspicious with all of this but she couldn't understand why they wanted to get rid of her. And at a random time, too!

"So, that's it then? After all that I've done for the company, I'm being fired for no apparent reason?" Molly said angrily.

"I'm afraid so. I would like you to clear out your warehouse and to finalize your leave. Here is your final paycheck," Mikael said, handing her an envelope. She took it and shoved it in her pocket.

"What will happen to all my work?" Molly said worriedly.

"We will be taking it and cataloguing it," he said simply.

"But I'm the one developing it! I'm not even done with it yet!" Molly exclaimed.

"The prototype vials are company property. One of our representatives will come by to pick it up, along with all of your research papers," he said.

"This is an outrage! You've taken everything from me!" Molly said angrily.

"I'm sorry, Miss Thomas. This is how it has to be," he said, sounding quite passive. Molly glared at him and she quickly stormed out of the café. She didn't know what else to say to him and she couldn't bear to be there any longer. Molly went back to the lab and began to finalize her leave. She took a vial of the original serum and put it in her purse. After she had done that, Molly took photographs of the whiteboards to preserve her research. She kept most of her recent research on her phone and also kept a backup notebook with less updated information on it.

At around five, a man from BIOAXONE came by with a moving truck and he instructed the workers to clear the warehouse. Molly watched as he took everything and merely gave her a handshake as a consolation for her months of research. They left at around seven and she sat outside the warehouse, feeling crushed. She knew that from now on, she would be unemployed. What would she do? She could live off the money she had earned from her research but that wouldn't last her long enough. Molly would have to scramble to find work and it was kind of scary to think of what would happen to her. She had nothing left in Bucharest except for her mother's home. Molly felt absolutely miserable and to be honest, she hated living like this. She still hated herself too, so that added fuel to the fire.

She walked down the street while holding her file folder to her chest. The files were the very last of her research papers but she had copies so they weren't that important. Mikael had at least let her keep that, along with her lab coat, since they figured that it would be a proper memento for her work. She was actually focusing more on protecting the phone that was in her pocket. Molly felt a drop of rain hit her cheek and she swore loudly, knowing that this day had gotten that much worse. It began to sprinkle and then the rain began hitting her hard. This morning, it had been so sunny and hot that she hadn't even thought of bringing an umbrella. What wonderful luck she was having! She attempted to hail a taxi, who all but ignored her. Molly ran through the rain, unaware that she was being followed.

She finally made it to a bus stop, but it had no cover or a bench to keep the rain from hitting her. Molly had nowhere else to hide in so she was forced to stay out here. She was completely soaked now and she was shivering slightly. Molly caught her reflection in a puddle and noticed her pale and sallow skin. She looked sick and miserable, like she had neglected herself. Over the past few months, she had grown to be just skin and bones. She was still as beautiful as she was before but her eyes now held a sad and rather haunted look in them. There was little of her soul left to salvage after what happened in London and aside from her research, she didn't do anything else. As much as she tried to forget, Molly could not let go of her sins and it almost never left her mind. She focused a lot on her work, in an attempt to distract her from what happened. As a result, she didn't eat much, hence her tiny figure.

Molly decided to just take the bus home to avoid the rain and she waited patiently for it to come by. From behind her, she heard loud laughter mixed in with slurred Romanian. There were two drunk men with a woman who was obviously a prostitute and they didn't seem to notice her. She felt the people bump into her, which caused the folder to tumble out of her hands. They walked on, unaware of what they had done to Molly. She swore loudly and she watched folder soaking up water. Molly had reached her boiling point and she collapsed at the curb. She sat on the side of the sidewalk and picked up the folder. Molly tossed the papers out into the street angrily, knowing that it would be useless to keep them. All of her research was gone. Molly put her head in her hands and shut her eyes, in an effort to keep from having a complete breakdown on the street. She heard someone pick up the folder and she stopped to thank them. She looked up and her heart stopped when she found herself staring into a pair of familiar blue green eyes.

"Hello, Molly," Sherlock said. A gasp escaped through her lips and she stared at him with wide eyes. She was utterly speechless and he covered her with his umbrella. A million things were going through her mind but a half-formed sentence was all that came out.

"Oh my god. How did you fi..." she said.

"It took a while but I was able to track you down," Sherlock said.

"Oh," was all she could say. Molly wasn't prepared for this at all! What was she going to tell him? Why had he just decided to walk back into her life, just like that? He began to walk and she followed him without thinking much about anything. They walked in silence to her home before he finally asked her something.

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

"Do what?" she said.

"Run," Sherlock said. She was silent and she decided to respond with a question of her own.

"Why didn't you just give up on me?" Molly said, peering at him with eyes illuminated with curiosity. He was unable to answer her question and they soon arrived at her home. They walked up to a white brick house with a old world sort of grandeur to it. It had creeping ivy all over the side that she refused to tear down and a gate in the front. Molly unlocked the door and led him inside. After setting down the folder, she headed to her room and changed into clean clothes. Sherlock had taken a seat on the couch, waiting for her to finish. He was being unusually patient and it unnerved her a little. She noticed that he hadn't said anything either, which greatly frightened her. What was he thinking about? He was so quiet that she honestly had no idea what it could be. Was she even talking to the same Sherlock Holmes, the impatient child-like man who never waited for anyone? She ignored the internal panic her brain was experiencing and she calmly sat down at the chair across from his and folded her hands across her lap.

"So, what were you asking about earlier?" she said.

"You know what I said. Why did you run away?" he said, with an unwavering stare. Molly's expression darkened and she looked a little uncomfortable with answering this but she decided to say what she felt was necessary.

"I was also too embarrassed by my behaviour to face you or anyone else, for that matter," she said carefully. "I didn't think anyone would forgive me for the mess I caused and I thought you hated me and never wanted to see me again."

"Well, you're wrong," Sherlock said matter of factly. Molly let out a weary laugh and she shook her head.

"I am wrong most of the time," she said. "What am I wrong about now?"

"I don't hate you. I...well, I missed you when you first left London. I...missed you even more when you ran away. That's why I kept looking for you," Sherlock said quietly. He had paused a couple times and she saw how hard it was for him to say all of this.

"I don't care what happened. None of that matters. I..I love you," he finally said. Molly stared at him in shock and he wondered what she was going to say to him. She was silent for the next few minutes and he looked at her with a little alarm in his eyes. Sherlock was treading into uncharted waters and he honestly didn't know what to expect from her.

"Wait, what?" she said as she stood up. He regained his composure and stood up, with an expressionless face.

"You heard what I said. I'm not repeating it again," he said stubbornly.

"But...why? There's no reason why you should! I did so many horrible things and I killed five people, not to mention the fact that everyone hates me for what I did. You deserve someone else-" she cried. Sherlock ignored her and walked over to her. He kissed her squarely on the mouth without thinking but he didn't regret it at all. That immediately silenced her and he pulled away to say something to her.

"Molly, you're rambling. I hate it when you do that," he murmured in her ear.

"I don't ramble," she protested, "On the other hand, I don't understand you at all! One moment, you're telling me that you love me and the before I know it, you're criticizing me! Look, you and I are two completely opposite people. I don't even understand you sometime-"

"You do ramble. You're doing it right now," he pointed out, looking amused. Her cheeks blazed red with embarrassment and she folded her arms across her chest.

"I-well, that's beside the point!" she said indignantly.

"Then what is your point? Is it that we shouldn't be together since you think you're a bad person, after what you did?" Sherlock said. She fell silent and frowned a little.

"Fine. It was," she said. He let out a sigh and she felt him wrap his arms around her waist. She knew that Sherlock wasn't usually a touchy-feely type of person and she appreciated his gesture.

"Molly, it isn't fair for you to exile yourself like this. You can't just stay here for the rest of your life, waiting to die. Go back to London," he said quietly.

"I can't," she said, looking troubled.

"Why not?" Sherlock said, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm not the same as I was before. Hell, I'll never be the same. I'm not sure if anyone will even want me back. The point is, I'm too broken to come back. Besides, if I do return to London, I'll be arrested for killing those people," she said softly. Tears pooled in her eyes because she knew that this was what had to happen. Despite the fact that it was the best solution, she felt that it was also the one that broke her heart the most.

"Love is not a subject that I am well-versed in but I am willing to make something work. If you say you're broken then fine, I'll fix you. I don't know if I can but I'll be damned if I don't try. Just come back with me. You heard what happened after you went into a coma, correct?" he said.

"I don't think anyone actually told me," Molly said.

"Mycroft arranged a cover up. He said that Miss Moriarty jumped off Tower Bridge and killed herself. He had the body parts to verify it with the police. I know that he made sure to make it so that the body was unidentifiable, so they could leave the identity of Miss Moriarty unknown," he said.

"Why would he help me?" she said, sounding puzzled.

"He knows what type of person you are and your true motives for accepting the job. Mycroft knew fully well that you would beat yourself up over this every day and by the looks of it, he was correct in his assumptions. We both knew that you would never let this go and that you would punish yourself properly for what you did," Sherlock replied.

"Does anyone else know that I jumped off St. Bart's?" Molly said.

"John is the only one who knows everything that happened. I had the records of your stay at the hospital deleted and I made sure no one was aware that you were in London," he said.

"I see how much you did for me and how much you want to make this work but I'm just not sure about going back," she said quietly.

"Why not?" Sherlock said. She let out a soft laugh that sounded world weary and she shook her head.

"To tell you the truth, I'm afraid of going back," Molly confessed.

"Don't be. I'm sure that you hate it here anyway," he said matter-of-factly.

"What makes you think that I hate Bucharest?" she said, looking puzzled.

"You lack decor in your home despite the fact you've been here for a while. You still dress like a Londoner, even if it doesn't fit with the weather. Besides, you lost your job and you really don't have anything else left here. It should be fairly obvious," he muttered.

"Hang on a sec, I never told you that I got fired," Molly said. She had caught his misstep so quickly that he didn't have enough time to make up an excuse. Sherlock didn't reply and she began to put the pieces together.

"It was you who told the board of directors to fire me, wasn't it?" she said accusingly.

"Technically, the e-mail was sent under Mycroft's name so therefore it was not me," Sherlock said, in an attempt to lighten her mood.

"Sherlock, I worked hard on that project!" Molly said, giving him annoyed pout.

"I'm assuming you have copies of your work, so you can continue your research later," he replied. She simply sighed and he held her close to him, in an attempt to console her.

"You really want me back in London that badly?" she said quietly.

"If I went through all this trouble just to find you, then yes, it would be safe to assume that," Sherlock said. Molly had never realized how much she had miss him and his straightforward nature until now. She let out a quiet laugh at his frankness and she tilted her head and kissed him on the cheek without warning.

"Sherlock, I am so sorry for what I did and I hope you can somehow forgive me," she said quietly.

"It's over and done and we can put it behind us," he finally said.

"Alright. You know...I love you too," she said shyly. He had a hint of a smile on his face and she felt him kiss her lightly on the forehead.

They stayed up for a while, talking about how life was for both of them over a cup of coffee. Sherlock told her about William, John's son, and she was quite eager to meet the little boy. He noticed that her demeanor had lightened, like a weight had been taken off her chest, and Molly's eyes shone brighter than they ever had before. Sherlock had realized that despite what she thought, her attitude had somewhat returned to its normal state and she had gone back to being the lovely woman that he had fallen in love with.

It was late when they finished talking and she looked at the clock. "Do you have a place to stay? It's late, and I was just wondering..." she said as she put her cup in the sink.

"I have a hotel here. I'll come back and see you tomorrow," he said, standing up. Sherlock put on his coat and made his way to the door. Molly followed him to the door and she wanted to ask him something.

"Sherlock?" she said hesitantly.

"Hmm?"

"Does this mean that we're...you know-" Molly began. Her cheeks were turning red and he rolled his eyes.

"If you have something to say, just say it," Sherlock chided.

"I was just wondering if we were officially a thing, so to speak," she said, with a blush on her cheeks. "You know what I mean."

"Of course we are a thing, Molly. I thought I made that clear," he said.

"I just wanted to make sure," Molly said. She slung his scarf over his neck and he opened the door. Sherlock stepped past the threshold and she tiptoed up and kissed him goodbye.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said. Molly watched him open the gate and shut it behind him. Sherlock waved goodbye and he disappeared from her sight. Molly shut the door and as she climbed into her bed, she was unable to ignore her erratic heartbeat and the feeling that had come over her. For the first time in a long time, she felt pure joy. It sent a surge through her veins and gave her a sensation unlike anything she had ever felt.

The next morning, she woke up and made breakfast for both her and for Sherlock too. She tied her hair in a loose bun and she threw on a loose white sweater with small grey stripes and a pair of form-fitting yoga pants. Molly left her coffee to cool on the table and she took out a few boxes out of the closet. She began deciding what to leave and what to move when the doorbell rang. Molly's heart skipped a beat for a little and she went to the door to answer it.

"Good morning," Sherlock said as she opened the door.

"Morning, Sherlock! Come in," she said pleasantly, stepping aside. The went into the house and sat down to eat breakfast.

"So, when are you leaving Bucharest?" Molly asked.

"My flight leaves tonight at eight, but you're going with me," he said as he sipped at his coffee.

"Of course I am. I just have to get all my stuff out of the house first," she said. They made more conversation and for the rest of the day, they moved all of Molly's belongings out of the house. It didn't take a lot of time since most of the stuff in the house was her mother's. Those were the things they could leave.

By the time it was six, they were ready to go. Sherlock brought her to the Henri Coanda International Airport and they got on a flight for London. During the flight, she worked quietly on her research and Sherlock even joined in at one point. He said that it was an interesting development and that he would take a closer look at it when they arrived in London.

The plane was about fifteen minutes from landing and Molly couldn't help but feel a little nervous because she knew that she would see everyone. Sherlock could sense that something was off with her and he had a feeling that he knew what it was.

"You're nervous about going back, aren't you?" he said quietly. Molly let out a sigh and she leaned back in her seat.

"I'm just afraid of what might happen. What if the Moriarty family still goes after me? They'll go after you too and I don't want that. What if people look at me differently?" she said fearfully.

"It'll be fine, Molly. Just don't worry about it," he said reassuringly. She felt him touch her hand and she intertwined her fingers around his.

"Thank you, by the way," Molly murmured.

"For what?"

"For all that you've done for me. I'm glad you didn't give up on me," she said. Sherlock gave her a slight smile and she felt the plane land on the runway. The jarring impact startled her a little but she felt a hint of excitement now, knowing that she was back where she belonged. When they stepped off the plane, the familiar lights of London's Heathrow Airport greeted her and she couldn't help but feel joy surging through her veins.

She was home.

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Well, that is it for now! I'm adding one last bonus chapter and that will be it for this story! I'm really sad that this is ending and I have a vague idea of what I'll do with this next. The final chapter will come out on Monday, maybe.

Leave me some reviews, guys!

-uniquename200


	15. Chapter 14: The End

Well, this is the last chapter! I can't thank you all enough for sticking around with this story for so long. I am so grateful to you and you are the best and greatest reviewers an author can have. I LOVE YA GUYS! I hope you like the surprises I have planned :)

**Disclaimer: **_Sherlock isn't mine at all but this story is and I'm pretty damn proud of that._

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**_(August 25th, 2014- 9:47 AM)_**

The sunshine shone brightly through the windows of the room and you could hear people chatting outside, waiting for the wedding to begin. At the vanity sat Molly, the nervous, blushing bride, getting ready for her wedding. It was Molly's wedding day and she could hardly believe that any of this was real.

Sherlock had proposed to her after seven months of dating. He thought that it would be a good idea to leave the ring box inside a spare heart that was in the freezer. Sherlock had left it out for her to find and she had found a note inside of it saying:

_My heart belongs to you. Well, technically this isn't my heart per se but I assume you get the point. Will you marry me?_

_-SH_

It was unconventional and anything but romantic but it was certainly memorable, creative, and 100% Sherlock. Molly, despite the fact that the ring had been in a spare heart, loved it all the same and agreed to marry him.

When Molly had told her mother, she had been absolutely thrilled. Maria had given up the leadership position in the Moriarty family by now and had severed all ties with them. She didn't know who the boss was now but she kept them as far away from her family as possible. Maria insisted that she tell her brother and have him walk her down the aisle (since she lacked a father). Molly was a bit wary of this but ended up agreeing to it anyway.

Molly and Sherlock had both gone over to Jim's place in Northern London. Jim was currently living with Irene and he had been somewhat surprised to see both of them at the door. Molly had simply sat down and explained to him that she was getting married to Sherlock. Jim hadn't freaked out like she had anticipated and was actually quite happy for the both of them. He agreed to walk her down the aisle and Molly was happy to see that Sherlock and Jim had reached civil terms because of her. Molly had also decided that she should try to play nice with Irene, whether she liked it or not. She knew that Irene would eventually become her sister-in-law at some point, so why not make friends with her now? The two women had put aside their initial dislikes for each other and Molly had gotten to know her a little better. She ended up asking her to be a bridesmaid at the wedding and was glad to see that Irene had accepted without being offended at all.

However, everything was different when they met Sherlock's mother. Molly was terrified to meet his mother and they had gone up to his childhood home in Weston, which was a small town about forty minutes away from Southampton. The Holmes Manor was a large estate near the forest and it was like a palace. It was quite grand, with an orderly garden in the back and large rooms. All of the Holmes boys had assembled at the manor for the traditional Sunday dinner with their mother and Molly felt a little nervous to be around all of them. During the dinner, she had met Sherlock's little brother, Quentin. He worked at the MI6 and was a little bit younger than her. Molly got along with everyone well and near the end of the meal, Sherlock had said the news without warning or so much as a second thought.

At first, Sherlock's mother had been stunned. Her antisocial, sociopathic son, married? She couldn't process the thought of it but once she did, she was thrilled to have Molly as an addition to the family. Violet had offered for them to be married on the estate but Sherlock refused to do so. However, Molly didn't mind it at all and entertained the possibility of being married at Sherlock's home. She eventually persuaded Sherlock (if you know what I mean) and he grudgingly agreed to get married at the Holmes Manor in Weston.

For the wedding, Sherlock had chosen John as his best man. Molly wanted Mary to be her maid-of-honor and little William was the ring bearer. The boy was about a year and a half old and was already toddling about. The service would be simple and they had invited only a few people. Her mum would be there, along with Jim and Irene. Sherlock's mother was coming with Mycroft and Anthea. Sherlock's brother, Quentin, was coming with James, his co-worker, and Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson were also attending. Sherlock had outright refused to invite Anderson and Donovan and Molly didn't object because she knew that nothing would change his mind. In turn, Molly remembered that Sherlock had suggested that she invite the Moriarty family and she looked at him like he was insane. He was joking, of course, but she had firmly decided that only her mother and brother would attend the wedding. She wanted nothing more to do with the rest of them. Molly was even getting married under the name "Hooper" instead of "Moriarty" for the fear that they might track her down and ruin her life again.

"-ift your chin up, please," the makeup artist said. Molly obediently lifted up her chin and the woman dusted some powder onto it.

"I think you'll be fine. You look quite beautiful, even without makeup," the woman said. Molly thanked her and began to make her way towards the bed. She took the dress off the bed and began to put it on. It was a rather simple but elegant dress. The white garment had short lacy sleeves and a cutout at the back that showed off her back quite nicely. The skirt flowed down to the floor and the dress was still somewhat demure but remained quite sexy. She couldn't wait for Sherlock to see it and hoped that he would love it.

Before getting in her dress, Molly fixed up her hair. It was in bouncy curls and they would put the veil on later. Mary came over and she helped Molly get into the dress. She patted down a piece of the skirt that was out of place and beamed at her best friend. "You look so beautiful, Molly!" she exclaimed.

"Thank you, Mary. To be honest, I'm a bit nervous," Molly said.

"Don't be. I'm sure he'll love it," Irene said. Her mother stood by, with joyful tears pooling in her eyes. She wrapped her skinny arms around her daughter and gave her a hug.

"I didn't think I would ever see this day. If your father was here..." her mother said softly, her voice trailing off.

"If dad was alive, what do you think he would have thought of Sherlo-" Molly began.

"If Charles had met Sherlock, I'm sure he would be a bit wary of him at first but I think that he wouldn't have a problem with him. They are quite similar and I'm being honest when I say that. He would have probably approved," she replied, cutting her off.

"Do you ever know why he put that in his will?" Molly said.

"There were two things in his life that he loved: his business and his family. I know he was afraid that everything would fall apart after his death and he didn't want all of his work to go to waste. That's why he put that in there. He didn't want his empire to die. However, to go to such extents was a bit drastic. But that's Charlie for you, I guess," she muttered.

"Ah, I see," Molly said. Her mother picked up the veil that sat at the table and put it on top of her daughter's head. White orchids had been wrapped around it to make a flower crown, of sorts.

"Go and be happy, my dear. I wish you the best," she said as she put it on. Molly gave her mother a kiss on the cheek and everyone made their way downstairs. The house was empty because everyone was outside in the garden. Molly fixed up her appearance in the hallway mirror and she met Jim at the doors that led to the backyard. His eyes lit up when he saw her.

"Wow, you look beautiful," he said, letting out a low whistle.

"Thanks. Do you think he'll like it?" Molly said.

"He will love it. I can't wait to see the look on his face when you walk out this door," he said. They watched Irene and Mary walk in front of them and they waited several minutes before hearing the cue from Pachelbel's Canon in D.

"You ready?" Jim said. She merely smiled at him in response and the two siblings walked out of the house, their steps matching each other.

They entered the garden, which was blooming with flowers. Molly saw Sherlock turn to look at her as she walked down the aisle and the look on his face was one that she would never forget. He looked stunned and a smile spread out on his face. She gave him a smile and they walked towards him. Jim placed Molly's hands in Sherlock and gave him a serious look.

"You'd better take good care of my little sister," Jim said.

"Of course I will," Sherlock said. The two men shook hands firmly and Jim made his way to his seat. The priest began to make his opening speeches and Sherlock nudged her gently.

"You look stunning in that dress of yours," he murmured.

"Do you like it?" she said softly as she peeked at him from the corner of her eye.

"Absolutely," he said. They proceeded through the wedding and she could tell that Sherlock was happy, in his own little way.

"Do you, Sherlock Alexander Holmes, take Molly Hooper as your lawfully wedded wife?" the priest said.

"I do," he said.

"And do you, Molly Elizaveta Hooper take Sherlock Holmes as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," she said. The priest beamed at the two of them and closed his book.

"Well, by the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride, Mr. Holmes," he said. Sherlock took the veil off of Molly's face and looked into her bright brown eyes. She gave him a smile and leaned in to give him a kiss.

When they kissed, she felt more joy than she had ever felt in her entire life. A cheer rose from the crowd of people that was there and she walked down the aisle again with Sherlock.

They had dinner at a small gazebo that was next to the garden and they also held the reception there. The party was small, but it was still quite joyful. The new couple milled about, receiving congratulations from the guests.

"Oh, Sherlock, I'm so happy for you! Now, are you two still staying at Baker Street?" Mrs. Hudson said.

"I don't see why not," Sherlock said.

"Lovely! I can't wait to see your little children toddling up and down the staircases," she laughed. Molly laughed along with her and the older woman walked off with Violet. The next to talk to them were Jim and Irene, who seemed genuinely happy for the new couple.

"You'd better take good care of Molly," Jim said.

"Oh, please. I will do my best with her," Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes. "Besides, if I were ever to annoy her, I'm pretty sure she could take me down."

"Better watch out then. She is trained to kill," Irene said.

"I wouldn't hurt you!" Molly said, letting out a laugh.

"Where are you two going for your honeymoon?" Jim said.

"I've planned for us to go to Rome for a week," Sherlock said.

"That sounds enjoyable. Best luck to the both of you!" Irene said. They walked off and Molly and Sherlock went off to mingle with the other guests as well. They had no idea, however, that someone was watching them.

From the top of the roof, a man watched Molly through the scope of his gun. He finally let out a sigh and disassembled his sniper rifle. The man went down the stairs and back into the main entrance, where he came in. He pulled out a bouquet of flowers and handed them to a man that was next to him, which was Mycroft.

"Give this to the bride, will you?" he said. Mycroft looked at him a little questioningly but took the flowers anyway. He was unable to see the man clearly, since it was dark, but could see the man's prominent brown hair. Mycroft watched the man walk away before disappearing into the front yard. He approached Molly with the flowers and she looked at him.

"Molly, these are for you. A man handed these to me but I'm not sure who he was," he said.

"These are pretty," she said as she opened the card. Her voice fell silent when she read the message and she nearly dropped the flowers. The paper fell out of her hands and tumbled to the grass.

"Hmm? Molly, what's wrong?" Sherlock said.

"Mycroft, what did that man look like?" Molly said slowly.

"I think he had brown hair. That's all I saw," he said. Sherlock picked up the note on the ground and his eyebrows raised in surprise when he read it.

_It may seem like it's over. Trust me, it's not. **Watch your back, Molly.**_

_-S_

Time seemed to stop for Molly and she could not speak. She didn't know what to think. Of all days, why today? She could only conclude that a brown haired man with an initial of S could only be Sebastian. He was warning her, but for what? Did the Moriarty family know she was alive? Those last four words rang clearly in her head and she let out a sigh when she knew what she had to do.

Molly would have to stand and fight. She didn't know who the boss was now but she could only conclude that Sebastian wasn't agreeing with him or her. Why else would he warn her? Sherlock wrapped a protective arm around her and told her to forget about it for now. This was her wedding day and she wasn't going to let them ruin it. If they came for her again, she would just have to be ready. They would most likely attempt to shatter her happiness so all she had to do was fend them off. She would be damned if she let them have their way and Molly was not afraid to fight for her happiness.

Bring it on.

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So, what do you think of the ending? Did you like it? Good, because **I'M PLANNING A SEQUEL!**

Yessiree guys, this is my plan! I'll probably post it mid-June (gotta get my shit together first) and it will be awesome! I hope you guys can stick around for that and I really hope you guys will enjoy it.

**BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!**

Check my tumblr on Monday! I have a little surprise waiting for you guys there and I hope you enjoy that one too.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this story and it was great to have you guys._** Stick around for the sequel and don't forget about me!**_

-**uniquename200**


	16. Announcement!

Hello everyone, it's me!

For those who didn't know, I posted the sequel to _**Miss Moriarty **_already. It's called _**Mrs. Holmes**_ and I really hope that you can join me again to find out what happens to our lovely cast of characters.

Anyway, that's all I wanted to say. Thanks for your time and I hope you can follow_** Mrs. Holmes **_as well!

_**-uniquename200**_


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